


King's Jackal

by esama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrecking all of Dumbledore's plans, the Power Dark Lord Knows Not walks up to Harry in the summer before his fifth year, and asks for directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stalking Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally on fanfiction.net around 2011  
> Proofread by Darlene and Spurio  
> ABANDONED AND NOT UP FOR ADOPTION

Harry groaned softly while trying to fan some cooler air over himself with a newspaper - that day's newspaper, which he had read through three times already. It was another hot day in an already too hot summer, and he wasn't even allowed into the goddamn house where the air-conditioning could've saved him from the exhausting heat and the glare of the sun. Not that he minded it _that_ much - it wasn't late enough for the news yet and no longer early enough for Aunt Petunia to bother with acting like a proper housewife, which meant that if he went back now she would've found something for him to do. And he had no intention of bumbling about doing annoying, meaningless chores while Dudley lay somewhere nearby, stinking of too much lying around and too little showering. At least out in the park it didn't smell like that.

 _'All things considered, this is not how I imagined this summer would go,'_ he thought to himself while lying on his back on the park bench. It was so hot that there were no kids outside playing and the playground next to him was completely abandoned, barring one crow idly picking the trash at the other end of the deserted area. _'After what happened last year, I kind of expected the summer to be… darker.'_

He snorted softly and shook his head. Really. It was a bit over the top to expect that just because Voldemort was back now the world would rearrange itself into a perfect representation of some horror movie cover that would present the situation in a suitable manner. Even if his mental image of storms and dramatic lightning strikes and depressing downpours would've been fitting. _'Voldemort is back and the whole world is in danger and it's sunny of all things,'_ he thought and chuckled lazily. It was so odd imagining the dark lord looming threatening about when he could hear crickets and birds and such.

 _'I suppose the world doesn't really need to pay attention to us and our fights,'_ he mused, fanning himself a little harder with the newspaper. _'What are we but little bugs crawling away on its surface? A few hundred years from now, and the world probably won't even remember what we were fighting about, regardless of who wins. So what if we're living in the shadows of mad magicians? The world wants sun so it gets the sun, and to hell with our ghost stories. Even when we're living them.'_

It was oddly comforting, though. If it had been dark and stormy like in some old fantasy novel, then it would've made Voldemort seem even more serious and scary than he already was. It would've meant that Voldemort's mere presence affected the world. But it didn't - because in the end, even Voldemort was just a man. A powerful, insane man who supposedly had come back from the dead, but a man regardless. Nowhere near powerful enough to change even the world's _weather_.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. _'Too bloody hot...'_ He would've given his whole bag of galleons for a nice cold drink right about now. And a proper fan. And maybe air-conditioning. _'Or a nice pool of icy water… hmm…'_ he mused while knocking his glasses up to his forehead and rubbing his eyes - sweat was making them sting. He would've loved a dip into the BlackLake, he really would've. _'I wonder how hot Hogwarts is on days like these? Probably not much, being a huge castle and all - and the dungeons are probably keeping it cool and all….'_

Thinking of Hogwarts made him think of his friends, which then made him frown and turn his thoughts away. He hadn't gotten much in the way of letters from his friends during the weeks at the Dursleys, and the letters he had gotten hadn't been much of a comfort. Mostly they were allusive and tantalising, giving bits of information about there _being_ information, and then denying him from having it. _'Can't talk about it in a letter, my arse. Voldemort's back, the whole world is in danger, and not a bit of real information,'_ he mused a little bitterly. _'Yeah, let's keep the Boy Who Lived ignorant about everything, that way he sure as hell won't know what to do if something happens.'_

Yawning lazily, he sat up, pushing the thought of his friends away and instead wondering what it was about hot days that made people sleepy. Rubbing his neck and trying to apply his make-shift fan a bit better he looked around. The neighbourhood was completely still, silently roasting in the sunlight. Above the asphalt streets the air twisted and curled with the raising heat, and above the sky was mercilessly blue without a single cloud offering any promise of shade or rain.

He sighed. If it continued like this, it was going to be another unbearably hot and uncomfortable night. Like they hadn't had enough of those that summer. _'A thing like this could make a bloke loathe holidays. I certainly would start, if I didn't already,'_ he mused, glancing at Magnolia Road where he could hear a car coming closer. It was a cab which, as he watched, parked near the sidewalk and let out its passenger, a man who after paying and sending the cab away, looked around.

 _'Maybe I should've brought my books with me,'_ Harry mused while eyeing the man. He raised his eyebrows at the muggle's clothes, finding the use of leather pants a little odd on such a day. Especially since muggles couldn't do cooling charms. _'It would've given me something to do, although… magical books in a muggle neighbourhood, not a good idea. And even if no one is around to see what the books are about, then they'd at least find me using a quill a bit odd… probably….'_

He frowned. For a moment it had looked like the muggle man, who was looking at a piece of paper, had two shadows. He blinked and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. _'Must've been a trick of the light,'_ he thought and turned his eyes away when the muggle man turned to face him. He didn't want to be caught staring, after all. _'Let's see… what assignments do I have yet to finish?'_

Laying back down on the bench and pushing the muggle man from his mind, he thought back to his trunk and the work he had somehow gotten done despite the unbearable heat. _'I probably need to work with the potions essay a little more, I don't think I got that bit about armadillo bile right. And I need to get Hermione to look through the transfiguration essay, I wrote it half asleep. Hmm…'_ he trailed away, thinking of his divination paper for a moment before sighing. No use thinking about that one, as he just made up most of it. _'Heh. Maybe I should write down a longwinded explanation of some of my dreams. Trelawney would get a kick out of that one --'_

"Excuse me?" heavily accented voice interrupted his musings, and almost startled Harry out of his skin. As the wizard blinked, half blinded by shock and sunlight, a face peered down at him. "Hey. Didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to ask you something, if that's alright?"

For one with such an obviously foreign accent, he didn't speak English poorly at all. "Um, what? I mean. Yeah, sure," Harry said, quickly sitting up and facing the man completely. The muggle man was rather short for a male, especially when Harry compared him to the likes of Sirius and Mr. Weasley and Snape who were all more than a little tall. But how tall the man was or wasn't, was secondary to what he wore - or what his hair looked like. Harry blinked a little at the odd hair dressing and the leather vest - was the man really wearing only _leather_ in this heat?

The man grinned at him. "I'm looking for Privet Drive," he said, holding up the piece of paper he had been looking after the cab had left. Privet Drive number fourteen was written on it, with Mrs. Banks written underneath. "Please tell me I'm in the right neighbourhood at least."

"Oh, yeah, it's not far," Harry answered, blinking a little. The man had violet eyes. Who had _violet eyes_? "Um, just follow Magnolia Road until you reach the crossing to Magnolia Crescent. Privet Drive's just at the end of Magnolia Crescent." Shaking his head, he turned to point towards the south-east corner of the playground. "Or if you're in a hurry, there's a short cut there, just between those two houses. It's all covered with bushes and kind of hard to see, but you can get straight to Privet Drive through there."

"Hmm… thanks," the man smiled, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his pants before turning to head towards the shortcut Harry had shown him. Curiously, Harry looked after him. The man was even wearing _boots_. Wasn't he hot at all? Not that Harry couldn't see why the man wore the pants - they fit him rather complimentarily - but still. Without cooling charms Harry wouldn't have worn what the man was wearing, not in this weather.

 _'Mrs. Banks, hm… wasn't that the woman who moved in during the spring just before the school year ended?'_ he thought back to what he had heard Aunt Petunia gossiping. He could remember his aunt saying something about the woman having odd hobbies or something…. The thought faded as he saw it again. A shadow next to the retreating muggle - except this time it wasn't on the ground, but hovering beside the man, in the air, following him.

He blinked, and then got up to his feet to see the apparition from another angle. No, it definitely wasn't a trick of the light. A ghost? He had thought that ghosts were usually bound to properties and such - and he had certainly never seen ghosts in the neighbourhood. And the shadow was following the leather-clad muggle man too… a ghost haunting a person? A _muggle_ person? Was that even possible?

 _'Well, I don't know everything about ghosts, so who knows, maybe they can haunt people... but that's a bit weird,'_ he thought to himself, glancing around before dropping the newspaper to the bench and following the muggle... who might not be a muggle at all. _'There are some wizards who can pass as muggles, I guess. And when I think about it, this guy isn't doing too good of a job at it - sure, some muggles dress up like that, but they don't exactly blend in. And if he is a wizard, it would explain the leather thing - with cooling charms they wouldn't be that hard to wear….'_ He would've loved a cooling charm or two too, and he was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. _'Alright, focus. It's not that hot.'_

As casually as he could, Harry followed the muggle man into the bushes and then out of them, keeping a distance between himself and the man. Hiding in the shadows next to a fence, Harry watched as the leather-clad man looked around, checking the house numbers. "Twenty seven, twenty nine... so fourteen should be that way," the man murmured just as the shadow beside him shifted forward and _touched_ the man's shoulder. Immediately the man turned to the shadow and in the direction the shadow was pointing, before turning to head to that direction.

 _'Definitely not a muggle, if he can see that... ghost thingy,'_ Harry mused. That raised the question of why the man hadn't recognised him. With sweat plastering Harry's hair back, the scar was painfully visible - and after the whole media mess of the previous year, everyone should've known his face. Yet this man hadn't as much as lifted an eyebrow at him. _'Well, he has a foreign accent, it may be that he comes from a country that doesn't bother with_ _Britain_ _'s magical celebrities and what not....'_ It was bit of a relief to think that there were magical countries out there that knew nothing about him. _'I'd like to visit one of them, one day. But why would he...?'_

He stepped out of the shadows and followed the man, who had now found number fourteen and was making his way towards it. _'So, why would a foreign wizard come to_ _Privet Drive_ _?'_ he wondered, hiding in the shadows of the brick walls that lined the walkway while sneaking closer. _'Or want something with Mrs. Banks? As far as I know she's perfectly muggle, isn't she? She's seen me around a few times and hasn't said a word to me - and if she was a witch....'_

It was a bit unnerving thought, but he rather doubted that a witch _could've_ moved in to Privet Drive. For one, there were the protections around the place, set there for Harry. And for two... he didn't think Dumbledore would've allowed it. _'That man has too much power over my life...'_ he frowned and inched closer as the foreign wizard rang the doorbell of number fourteen. He was almost close enough to hear if the man spoke. Almost....

The door was opened by a middle aged woman wearing a white blouse and a skirt, who looked at the visitor with surprise - and then squealed like a teenage girl. While Harry stared with mild shock, the short man in leather chuckled softly at the woman's reaction. "Mrs. Banks, I presume?" he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Yugi Mutou. I'm here about a problem you --"

"Mr. Mutou!" the woman almost leaped forward, taking the man's hand and shaking it like the world depended on the handshake. "Sir, it's an _honour_! I had word that help was coming today, but I didn't in my wildest dreams think _you_ would come personally...! Oh, this... this is...! The King himself here, for little old me, I... oh, I don't know what to say!" She tittered giddily before, looking a bit mortified with herself, moved back a little, blushing. "Oh, my, look at me. Acting like total twit - I do apologise. It's just... oh dear, this is _exciting_! You didn't come all the way just for me, did you?"

The leather-clad wizard chuckled and shook the woman's hand firmly. "That is quite alright," he assured her with a smile. "I was already in Britain, so the trip wasn't taxing for me. No more than a side trip really. Now, about your problem...?"

"Right, of course. Come right this way," the woman nodded, motioning the man to come in. "Are you hungry at all? I could make some tea...."

Harry blinked a little dully as the door closed behind the two. _'King?'_ he wondered with shock. Whatever he had been expecting, that had certainly not been it. _'A problem, hm? What sort of problem would bring this king-wizard-muggle-whatever-he-is to a muggle area?'_ he frowned. _'And what kind of person makes a grown woman act like a kid on Christmas?'_ Harry grimaced, thinking back to some of the reactions he had gotten in the wizarding world. A celebrity, that's who.

Shaking his head at the thought, he looked over the fence behind which he was hiding. The woman had her kitchen window open - like just about everyone in the country, probably. If he sneaked underneath it he could probably hear whatever they said - unless they went upstairs.

Making his decision, he glanced around and then jumped over the fence. Thankfully Mrs. Banks had a rather overgrown yard and he could easily hide among the young bushes as he crept closer to the house. The noise made by the overgrown weeds made him grimace, but hopefully it wasn't so loud that someone would pay close attention to it.

"...in London, but after things got a mite difficult - and my husband ran off with that harlot - I decided to move away," Mrs. Banks was saying when Harry was finally close enough to hear. By the sound of it, she was in the kitchen, probably preparing the tea. "For a new start, and the like. A friend of my Aunt's was selling this place and it seemed like a decent enough neighbourhood, so I decided to move in - I thought a quiet neighbourhood would be a good place to perfect my art too... oh, I'm babbling. Do you want sugar with your tea?"

"No, thank you, plain tea is fine," Mutou answered. "So, that was when you started having problems?"

"Right after moving in," the woman agreed. "Things were just fine back in London. They reacted to me as they should and that pesky Cerberus of mine was just about to start thawing - he's been a handful, that one. But then I move here and... nothing. Not a whisper, not a twitch. My oldest, the Fire Princess, even she's been silent and she's usually as much of a chatter box as I am."

Mutou made a thoughtful hum. "Hmm... could be that they're bothered by the move. Did you explain the change of location to them?"

"I did, sir, and I swear they seemed to understand. Well, a few of them were grouchy about it, of course, but for most part they seemed accepting – a few were even excited about going to a new place. Fireball Token was bouncing off the walls about it, even. But..." the woman sighed. "Do you think I've insulted them somehow? I always thought we were in a good relationship, me and my monsters, but...."

"I don't think that's the case, honestly. You seem to care for your beasts enough, and it's very hard to make your entire deck turn against you. At least one of them should still be talking to you, and monsters usually don't express indignation with silence. If they were mad at you, you'd know it for sure," Mutou assured while Harry tried to make heads or tails out of the conversation. It almost sounded like they were talking about magical creatures, but... not. Was Mrs. Banks a witch after all? She didn't act like one. And if she had magical creatures stored away somewhere in her house.... no, that wasn't possible. No one could hide a _Cerberus_ in a muggle neighbourhood. Hell, a creature like that was hard to hide in _Hogwarts_.

A spoon rang against the side of a tea cup in the house while the two spent a moment in silence. Then Mutou spoke again. "I doubt it is something the monsters themselves are doing. I think it is something about this neighbourhood that makes them quiet," he said. "I am having an odd feeling here myself. I think it's best I have a look at your deck, Mrs. Banks. I should know more once I've gotten the chance to converse with the monsters themselves."

"Yes, of course. Give me a moment, I will fetch it," the woman answered.

As her steps lead away, Harry leaned against the wall underneath the kitchen window and frowned. Deck? Beasts in a deck? As in... a deck of cards? That made no sense. Unless they had somehow put the creatures into the cards, and that was like no magic he had ever heard of. No amount of expansion charms could put a creature into a piece of paper, after all - not to mention about it being incredibly cruel to try. Something else was going on then. Were the two speaking in code or --

"Eavesdropping is rude, you know," a voice cut through his musings like a knife, and as a startled Harry turned to look upwards, he saw Mutou. The man was leaning out of the window, peering down at him with a look of mild amusement on his violet eyes. As the younger wizard froze, caught in the act and by a _wizard_ of all things, the man smiled. "Now what could've made you so curious that you had to sneak in to listen to our private conversation, Mr...."

"Potter," Harry answered automatically and regretted it instantly. Even if the man didn't know his face, there was a chance he knew his name. "I uh... I thought I saw... uh..." he stopped, his eyes widening as he saw the shadow from before, leaning up over Mutou to see him. Harry suddenly felt like running away. He could _swear_ the mass of shadow had red eyes. "M-maybe I should be on my way...?"

"Hmm..." Mutou hummed, his smile widening. "Or maybe you should just come in," he answered and before Harry could say anything, the man was gone. A moment later the front door next to the slightly quivering Harry opened and the leather clad foreigner stepped out, looking at him expectantly. "Come on," the man said, the shadow peeking out of the house curiously. Swallowing around his heart, which was beating rapidly in his throat, Harry stood up. He felt clumsy and numb as he made his way to the door, and then inside number fourteen.

"This isn't all of my cards," Mrs. Bank said while coming down from the second floor. She was holding a small box in her hands. "This is just my main deck. I have the rest of the cards stored away in the attic, but if you want to see them too..." she trailed away at the sight of Harry. "Well," she said. "What’s this, now?"

"He was listening in," Mutou answered, oddly cheerful for someone who had just caught a spy, which made Harry even more nervous. "I thought he might like a closer look."

"Are you sure, sir? I know a little of the family he lives with, I wouldn't call them exactly open minded," Mrs. Banks warned. "And around the neighbourhood there's some awful rumours circling around about this young fellow."

"But he was still listening which to me seems like a clear sign that he should see as well," Mutou answered.

"What?" Harry asked confusedly, as a chuckling Mutou more or less steered him towards the kitchen. "Wait, I don't... I'm sorry about listening in, I didn't mean any ...."

"Hush, now. You already made the first move, the shadows will have the next one," Mutou answered and Harry felt a sudden chill creeping down his spine. As the short man pushed him down to sit by the kitchen table, he felt almost like someone had sat him down on the chain-ridden chair in the Ministry and any moment now he would be forcibly bound down. Mutou merely smiled at him and sat down beside him. "Now," he said, turning to Mrs. Banks. "The deck?"

"Ah, yes. Of course - here," she said, handing the box to the leather clad man. Nervous and a little curious at the same time, Harry leaned in a little to see as the man opened the box. Inside it was really a deck of cards - but not of usual playing cards or the ones used in exploding snap or any other sort of cards he had ever seen. They were cards with pictures and numbers and stars and text on them. Some sort of collecting cards, maybe?

"You have a Pyro Deck, Mrs. Banks?" Mutou asked while taking the cards out and gently going through them, treating them like they were made of precious china.

"Well, I wouldn't call it that, though I admit that most of my cards are oriented to that direction," the woman answered with a smile while sitting down across from Mutou and Harry. "It started with the Princess. She was my first card and I've had her for the better part of ten years now. As time went on, she just seemed to... gather a following, I suppose."

Mutou nodded, and took out one of the cards. "It tends to be like that when you find your main monster," he answered, holding the card up and peering at it closely. In the card there was a picture of long haired girl with a red robe, with words Fire Princess written above it. "She's in good condition for a card that old. You've been handling her with love."

"She's impossible not to love," the woman chuckled before frowning, looking worried. "Is she... is she alright?" she asked, fiddling with her tea cup almost nervously.

"Hmm..." Mutou answered and closed his eyes. Confused, Harry looked between the man, the card and the woman and felt like a muggle in the presence of wizards all of a sudden. Just what the hell was going on? They were talking about the piece of paper like it had _feelings_ and _thoughts_.

"I can feel her," Mutou murmured. "She's not angry with you and she is alright - so are the rest according to her. But she's frightened. She's... being blocked somehow...." he frowned and opened his eyes. "There's something odd going on around here."

As Harry and Mrs. Banks watched, Mutou placed the deck of cards down, before reaching for his belt. For a moment Harry wondered if he was going to pull out a wand or something like that, but instead he flipped over an odd, angular holster at his belt, and pulled out another deck of cards. While Mrs. Banks got a sudden look of _reverence_ on her face, Mutou went through the cards, and pulled out one of them. Harry got a glimpse of a man wearing armour and name that started with the word _Dark_ , before Mutou held the card up, like showing it to the room.

Harry's mouth fell open with shock. It was almost like apparition, but not quite. In swirl of shadows that flickered along the floor, a man appeared - the same man who was showing on the card, wearing dark armour and an odd helmet and holding a metallic staff in his hand. While Mutou stood up and Mrs. Banks covered her mouth in delighted shock, the man in the armour knelt on the floor, bowing his head to Mutou.

"What sort of magic _is_ this?" Harry murmured in shock but no one seemed to be listening. Mutou, either ignoring him or not hearing him, spoke to the armoured man kneeling at his feet. The words were soft and stern and spoken in a language that only the armoured man seemed to understand. Then the man spoke back in same language, shaking his head and making a circling motion with the staff.

"There is a field around this place that seems to hinder shadow magic," Mutou said in English, crouching beside the armoured man and resting his hand on the man's shoulder. Only then Harry noticed how tired the armoured man looked and how the man's head was drooping. "Dark Magician barely got through it."

"A field?" Mrs. Banks asked, frowning. "So it's because of this _place_ that my monsters can't.... Can you do something about it, sir?"

"Well, I generally try not to interfere with other people's magics," Mutou answered, patting the other man's metallic shoulder guard almost gently just before the man vanished in lazy curl of shadows. "The field is protective in nature, and probably put up for a reason. I could probably unravel it, but...."

Protective field? ' _They're talking about the blood protection?'_ Harry wondered and coughed softly. Should he tell these two about it? They were obviously a wizard and witch of _some_ kind, but they apparently used magics he had never even _heard of_ before... and neither seemed to have any idea about who he was. Either that or they simply didn't care. And _shadow magic_? What if they were dark wizards?

"Do you know about anyone else around the neighbourhood who uses magic?" Mutou finally asked, looking at Mrs. Banks. "They might have some idea about the field."

"No, not really. I've only lived here for so long, but as far as I can tell, I'm the only user around here," Mrs. Banks answered. "No one around here had any idea about what these are, even," she added, taking her deck and gently shuffling the cards. "So, the reason why I can't reach my cards is because of this place. Can I reach them if I leave Privet Drive?"

"I think so. The field is only blocking the monsters and as far as I could tell, it has done no damage to the cards, so outside the field's influence you should be able to summon your beasts normally," Mutou assured, looking thoughtful. "Still, not being able to reach your monsters in your own home... that can't be too pleasant. How often do you play?"

"A couple times a week. I'm not a monster enthusiast or anything, nor have I ever exactly been a dedicated player as it is, and around here I have barely any opponents at all, but I have a card circle in London in which I play - or played, before moving here. I was intending to continue playing with my circle, but the cards fell silent... I didn't dare to play with my cards like that, I didn't even take them out of the house," the woman shook her head and sighed. "I suppose I could've gone and they would've answered me fine?"

"Probably," Mutou nodded, looking oddly sympathetic. "But I understand that a thing like that can scare you, I probably would do something similar in your situation." He stood up. "Now, I think I can do something about this problem. But I will need time and a little bit of space that can be sacrificed to the cause. Do you have a corner of the house or some room that you don't need overly much?"

"Well... there's the smallest bedroom, I've been only using it as a closet so I suppose I don't really need it. I will just need to move some boxes out and it can be used well enough," Mrs. Banks nodded and stood up. She gave Harry a slightly uneasy glance and while the young wizard wondered what to do, Mutou pulled him up to his feet.

"Come along now, our little spy," the man said. "I think you've seen just about enough for now."

"Ah," Harry started but stopped, not quite sure what to say. Then he tried again. "What is going on here?" he asked. "What are... those?" he motioned at the deck of cards Mutou was gently cradling in his hands.

"The ancient power of a forgotten world modernised by a man brilliant beyond his era and truly unleashed by the pharaoh of shadows," the short man answered with an oddly cheeky grin, pushing him towards the door. "The next move on this board is yours. If you want to keep on playing, visit a store and ask them if they sell Magic and Wizards."

"What?" Harry asked with shock. _Sell_ magic and wizards? "What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you're meant to know, you will find out," the man said cheerfully and unceremoniously kicked Harry out of Mrs. Banks' house. The wizard blinked with confusion, turning around only to have the door more or less slammed in his face. As Harry stood on the porch, a little bewildered about what had just happened, he could hear Mrs. Banks and Mutou speaking inside.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir... what was that about?"

"The makings of a new duellist, if I am right."

Harry threw a slightly shocked look at the door and finally gave into the instinct to get away and fast.


	2. Summoner's Apprentice

Even a day and a whole lot of contemplation later, the encounter with Mrs. Banks and Yugi Mutou made absolutely no sense to Harry. The only thing he really could be sure about with the whole thing was the fact that neither Mutou nor Mrs. Banks was a muggle. Yet they didn't seem to be a wizard and a witch as he knew them. Neither had recognized him either, which indicated that they weren't part of the wizarding society, at least not the British one - and being British, at least Mrs. Banks would've known him if she read any wizarding newspapers.

 _'And that... magic,'_ he thought to himself while lazily leafing through his transfiguration text. Magic in a paper card. And not just the sort of magic he was used to seeing, the likes of which exploded the card and burned your fingertips like in Exploding Snap. Mutou and Mrs. Banks both had acted like the cards had been _people_ with thoughts and feelings and a voice. And that armoured man... had he came _out_ of the card? Or _because_ of the card?

 _'Could they be like... reverse Portkeys, or something?'_ Harry wondered. _'Items which instead of sending you elsewhere summon someone to you? Is that even possible?'_ Not as far as he knew, but he was starting to realise that there was really rather little he actually knew about magic. In some corner of the world, the sort of reverse-teleportation magic Mutou had done might be very popular. But... it hadn't seemed like just _that_. The man with the armour and the card Mutou had used to summon the man... they hadn't seemed to be just that.

 _'Mutou called the... the cards monsters and beasts, rather than people, even while acting like they were people,'_ Harry thought, flicking a page and not really seeing the text at all. _'Does that mean that the armoured man wasn't a man at all, but some sort of monster? Like... a vampire or something? What did he call that guy anyway, Dark Magician?'_ he scratched his scalp irritably and stared at the page blindly. _'If he uses a card to summon someone or something like that... does that mean every card is connected to a creature of some sort? Like that Fire Princess and... the Cerberus?'_

It seemed rather handy and at the same time confusing as heck. What was the point behind magic like that? _'Except.... That's kind of like Voldemort and the Dark Mark, isn't it? The way Hermione explained it made it sound like the Dark Mark tattoo is like... a link or something. When Voldemort summons through the thing, the Death Eaters come to do his bidding. So the cards... are kind of like that, a way to summon servants?'_

That was a... sort of like an explanation, except neither Mutou nor Mrs. Banks had acted like the creatures of their decks were servants or slaves - Mrs. Banks had seemed scared that her cards were _mad_ at her of all things, and the way Mutou had treated the cards... _'If the cards and the creatures in them or connected to them really share a consciousness or something like that, it explains the gentle treatment. Except if Mutou was a dark wizard, there is no way he would've been that gentle. Voldemort wouldn't be. Or Lucius Malfoy....'_

So, if they weren't dark wizards or what not, then... why did they have the cards and the creatures connected to them? What was the point? _'Didn't they say something about playing?'_ Harry tried to remember and frowned. Playing with the creatures? Like... pitting them against each other or something? _'I don't get it,'_ he sighed, rubbing his forehead absently. Mrs. Banks didn't seem like someone who would get amusement out of setting one creature against another. And it seemed like an odd way of having cock-fights. Or monster-fights. Or whatever.

He spent a moment thinking about it, but it still made no sense. Sighing with irritation, he closed the book and sat up on his bed. _'This isn't helping me at all,'_ he thought, running his hand through his hair. _'Why am I paying this much attention to this whole thing, anyway? They're not dark wizards or if they are, then at least they aren't after me. I should be concentrating on Voldemort and the war....'_

Except he hadn't heard a whisper about the war, there was nothing about it in either the muggle or magical papers or news and the waiting was getting unbearable. He shook his head to get his hair back in some sort of order, and glanced at the window. It was another hot day and the stillness was getting to his nerves. _'Ask a store if they sell magic and wizards, huh?'_ he thought with a snort, imagining the looks he would get if he asked any store that, muggle or magical. _'I imagine anyone who would try selling magic would be a fraud and anyone trying to sell wizards would go to a prison pretty quickly....'_

Still, the odd order kept nagging him. Magic and wizards - what he could do and what he was. Mutou  probably hadn't meant that, but still.... _'Well...'_ he frowned and stood up. _'Asking for it from any store, I would make a complete fool out of myself, but... I suppose in this neighbourhood, that wouldn't mean much. It's not like I'm not already the village idiot around here....'_

On his way downstairs, he craned his neck to see whether or not the Dursleys were watching the late afternoon news - it didn't hurt to check just in case something had finally happened - but no, Dudley was watching some show about cars. _'I guess I ought to be relieved by that…'_ Shaking his head, Harry sneaked past the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was muttering something under her breath about doing the dishes. Hurriedly the wizard made it to the door, not wanting to be held behind to do the chore - as it would no doubt lead to another chore and another and another….

 _'Maybe I will check out the newspapers while I'm at the store,'_ he thought, frowning slightly. _'Just to make sure….'_

The walk towards the nearest grocery store was both refreshing and tiring. It got him out of the house, but when it was warmer outside than it was inside, that was a short lived blessing. It was a relief once he finally got to the store itself - the temperature inside was blessedly low thanks to the many refrigerators and whatnot keeping the food fresh.

The first thing he headed for was the magazine rack, glancing at the front covers for a moment before picking up a copy of some weekly newspaper and leafing through it. Nothing, nothing and more nothing - unless he was interested in a long-winded article about some critters living in the Sahara. _'This is driving me nuts. There should've been_ something _in the papers at some point. Why is Voldemort keeping so darn quiet?'_

Shaking his head he put the magazine back into the rack before looking around. He had no muggle money so though the section of the store selling sodas looked very tempting, he only glanced at it. _'One more thing to do,'_ he thought, scratching the back of his neck, wondering if he really wanted to ask. _'Seems like such a stupid thing, but… Mutou seemed serious. Or….'_ Actually the man hadn't really seemed that serious, but he had still said it like it was really something he ought to do. _'And if I'm honest with myself, if I don't do it, it will haunt me until I do actually do it….'_

He sighed and glanced around for someone who possibly worked in the shop. There was a man stocking a shelf nearby, and carefully Harry approached him. "Excuse me," he said, suddenly feeling ridiculous but swallowing the feeling. It wasn't like it was the first time he had been ridiculous. "Do you by any chance sell… magic and wizards?" he asked and grimaced. _'Just saying that aloud seems so wrong….'_

"Magic and Wizards, hm? Yeah, I think we have those," the man answered, pushing another box of table wipes onto the shelf and pointing at the other end of the store, where the counters were. "The collectibles are usually in a rack next to the candy shelves."

"Oh. Uh. Thanks," Harry nodded and little numbly walked in the direction the man had pointed him to. With a little glancing around, he found the shelf the man had meant. And there he found no less than two open boxes, both full of flat plastic wrappings. "Magic and Wizards," he read out loud a little incredulously, taking one of the small packets and staring at it. On the front it read that inside the wrapping there was five Magic and Wizards cards. _'Those cards… the same cards Mutou used to_ summon _, to do_ magic, _are… sold like this? In muggle stores? What the hell?'_

"I see the King was right about you," a familiar voice spoke behind him, making him whirl around with surprise. Mrs. Banks was standing there, leaning onto a shopping cart. She looked down at the packet Harry was clutching involuntarily against his chest, and raised her eyebrows. "You interested in the game, now?"

Harry blinked, glancing down at the packet he was holding before looking up at the woman again. "It's a… game?" he asked, not really sure what else to say. It had seemed like something a whole lot different when he had seen Mutou work the cards. Here, in a muggle store, wrapped in plastic… the cards seemed more like a joke.

"It is that, sure. But, for certain people, it's also a whole lot more than just that," the woman answered and swiftly plucked the packet from Harry's fingers. "Most of humanity could bathe, sleep and eat these cards and they would never be more than paper and ink to them. But for some, for a precious, special few…" she trailed away and smiled. "Since the King himself took a liking to you, I think you're going to be something special. How about I buy this for you, as an initiation gift?"

Harry shuddered. Initiation gift? "You make it sound like a cult," he muttered, but followed the woman regardless towards the registers. "That man, Mutou… is he really a _king_?"

The woman chuckled. "Well, not really," she said while starting to pile her purchases onto the conveyer. "It's a title he won some years back, and he's still known by it. And it does in a way explain what he is to us, these days."

Harry blinked with confusion and waited somewhat nervously as Mrs. Banks paid for her purchases and started putting them into plastic bags. While at it, she handed the Magic and Wizards packet to Harry. "Here you go. Why don't you open it and I'll explain what you got on our way to Privet Drive, hm?"

"Um. Okay," Harry muttered and while the woman finished shoving her purchases into the bags, he tore the plastic wrapping open. After throwing the wrapping into a bin nearby, he eyed cards themselves with confusion, not really understanding them at all. "So, what… are these?" he asked, following Mrs. Banks out of the store.

"Let me see," the woman said and Harry handed the cards over. She went through them quickly. "Well," she started. "These three are monster cards. The armoured magician you saw yesterday, he was also a monster. There are different sorts of monsters of course. This one," she held up a card saying Arcanite Magician which showed an image of a blue skinned man wearing white. "Is obviously a spell caster, meaning that you can use him in conjunction of all sorts of spell cards and such. This one is a spell caster too, though not as useful as the Arcanite Magician; it doesn't have as useful attributes as the Magician does," she said, holding up a card which was named Rogue Doll. "And this one is just a winged beast, a low level monster at that," she said, holding the final of the monster cards, a Sonic Duck. "These other two are a spell card and a trap card respectively," she finished, holding the last two cards up, Plasma Counter and Worm Bait.

"I… have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said slowly while accepting the five cards. When he looked at them closer, he saw that they had all sorts of marks and such on them, probably making them different from each other in all sort of important ways that he had no idea how to read.

The woman smiled. "I felt like that too, when I first started," she chuckled. "You can tell different cards apart by looking right here, under the name. If there are stars here, it's a monster card. If not, it's usually written what sort of card it is. And with monster cards, the more stars it has, the more powerful it is."

Harry frowned. The Arcanite Magician had seven stars. "So, this one is the most powerful one?" he asked, eyeing the white clad magician. Then he shook his head and glanced at the woman. "What does this stuff have to do with anything, though?" he asked a little confusedly. The cards were some sort of reverse Portkeys, right? So what did it matter what sort of cards they were?

"Well, if you're ever going to summon these monsters, it helps to know something about the game. Summoning isn't like the game, of course - the game is a whole lot more complicated, actually, but less dangerous than summoning - but the game is based on the actual thing, so the rules have _some_ relevance," Mrs. Banks answered, nodding at his cards. "Arcanite Magician is not a monster I've ever had, but I bet the actual thing does draw power from something like spell counters."

Harry shook his head again. What she had said made absolutely no sense to him. "What?" he asked a little helplessly.

"This is why I never became a teacher," Mrs. Banks murmured, making a thoughtful expression. "Well, to be truthful, I don't really know that much about this sort of stuff. I just happen to be one of the few people capable of it, found out by lucky coincidence when a friend of mine got into the game. The King himself would probably know all about the history of the whole summoning aspect, but… hmm…."

Harry frowned as the woman fell into thoughtful silence. "How many people are there who can do this?" he asked then, a little worriedly. The whole thing didn't sound exactly like magic as he knew it, but as odd as it seemed, it was definitely _some_ sort of magic. Except… Mrs. Banks had yet to say anything about any other sort of magic, so maybe this summoning was all she could do? Did that mean that summoners were… just summoners and not wizards in any way?

"Hm? Not many. I think there's only about fifty of us in Britain all together," she answered. "We're usually called duellists but I've heard people call us summoners too - but it doesn't really matter what you call us. Japan has plenty of us, a lot more than Britain has, but Magic and Wizards is quite popular there - and Mr. Mutou himself is Japanese so that sort of makes it a good place to start this sort of thing."

"And… people know about these… duellists? Normal people?" Harry asked worriedly. If there were people out there capable of this sort of thing, why had he never heard about it? Didn't the magical world know?

"Some do, but it's not exactly a widely known fact," Mrs. Banks chuckled. "I imagine you would've heard about it long before meeting the King if it was. No. Duellists know each other but that’s about it. It's probably best that way. It would cause a bit of a ruckus if the world knew about us and took us as seriously as people ought to."

 _'So, these duellists or summoners or whatever they are, they're a little like wizards?'_ Harry mused. _'Living in secret among muggles. Or maybe they are like muggles, except for the fact that they have this ability? I wonder if they have a society like wizards do….'_

"How does it work?" he asked and lifted the cards when the woman looked at him confusedly. "I mean… how can you do magic with paper cards?" That part made no sense. Especially since the cards were sold in muggle stores like they were no stranger than napkins or something.

"Well, as I see it, the cards were based on real things," the woman answered. "The monsters and the spells came first. Then someone found out and… made a card game out of it. The two are so similar, one being based on the other, so that when you have enough power, when you're special enough, you can take a normal card and… use it as a medium of sorts to summon the real monsters and make real spells the cards were based on.

Harry blinked. One could do spells with the cards too? That sounded interesting, but the rest of it… "I see why you never became a teacher too," he muttered. "That sort of sounds like someone saw a war, based the game of chess on it and now people can create wars by playing chess."

Mrs. Banks chuckled. "It makes a little bit more sense when you get used to it," she assured. "The whole game starts getting easier to understand once you get into it - and the monsters themselves are really helpful. Once you can summon one of them... well, they usually help you with the rest."

Harry nodded, frowning. It was rather like magic, then. It hadn't made any sense to him either, not before he’d started actually doing it - and now it was normal and commonplace for him. "Was that... Fire Princess the first one you summoned?" he asked curiously.

"She was. Been very smug about it ever since - considers herself the leader of my deck," the woman chuckled. "And I suppose in a way she is. A princess of a little kingdom of her own."

"So... if I manage to summon this one, does it mean that he would be the leader of my... deck?" Harry asked, looking down at the Arcanite Magician.

"I rather doubt you can summon that one on your first try," the woman chuckled, taking the card. "See here. This is a Synchro monster. It means that you need to, in a way, sacrifice certain special sorts of monsters in order to summon this one. One tuner monster and one or more spell casters. Of course, in real summoning it doesn't matter how the rules of the card game goes - monsters in real summoning don't require rituals or sacrifices like in the card game. However, if a monster is hard to summon in the card game, it means it will probably be hard to summon in real life too."

"Sacrifices?" Harry asked, horrified, and with a chuckle the woman began explaining the summoning system of the card game. It was long and overwhelmingly complex talk, but the gist of it was that the more powerful a monster was, the harder you had to work to get it.

"To some, summoning high level monsters is like second nature - the King can summon gods and not break a sweat about it, probably," Mrs. Banks said, frowning at the Arcanite magician. "If I try to summon a monster higher than level seven, I almost pass out, for one. It takes practice and determination - and of course, no monster can be summoned if he or she doesn't want to be, so it doesn't hurt to have the monster's friendship."

Harry looked down to the five cards he had and frowned. "Um... how many cards are there are usually in a deck?" he asked carefully.

"I have a forty card deck, but some have as many as sixty cards. It depends on what rules you play with - though of course, there are no rules with the real thing," Mrs. Banks chuckled and looked up as they came to the corner of Privet Drive. "Why don't you come by my house? I'll fix us a cup of tea and then I will show you my deck and explain a little more about the game, hm? I can show you how summoning works and explain a little more about spells and traps."

Harry frowned, not sure if he should. He was curious, sure, but the whole thing was a bit overwhelming. _'But... I suppose I have nothing better to do,'_ he thought. "Sure, if it's not a bother," he said.

"Trust me, it isn't. The King himself picked you up, so you can bet I'm a little curious to see whether or not you have any potential," Mrs. Banks said, leading him towards her house. "It doesn't happen every day, you know."

Harry nodded hesitatingly, wondering who Mutou really was. The man had only dragged him in, let him listen and watch for a moment, and kicked him out, and suddenly he was... what? A potential summoner? Shaking his head at the thought, he followed Mrs. Banks inside the house.

He ended up staying for almost four hours, going through Mrs. Banks deck and learning all sorts of things about both the game and the real summoning. There was a surprisingly intricate system to both of them - the card game was more rigorously controlled and limited by rules all the while being a whole lot more complicated, but the real thing was more taxing and dangerous. It didn't cost you much to throw down a few cards on a table, but in real summoning every summon, every spell, and every trap had to come from somewhere.

"Each spell you do and each monster you summon takes a bit of your energy," Mrs. Banks warned. "It doesn't take long to get tired after too many summons. So if you manage to start summoning, be careful with it. You can die from the energy loss."

So, the magic done with the cards wasn't exactly free. Mrs. Banks couldn't really say what energy the summoning took, but she assured him that it wasn't anything a summoner couldn't get back. Eating and a good night's rest usually made you right as rain again, so it wasn't like summoning did permanent damage - not unless you went overboard with it.

"Some say it's life energy or life force that is used with summoning, but no one really knows for sure. The King might, but I didn't really think to ask," the woman finished the explanation.

"Where did he go anyway?" Harry asked. "Mutou, I mean?"

"I honestly didn't ask. I'm happy that he dealt with my problem and that I can summon my monsters in the house now, but what he does isn't really my business," she shrugged. "I suppose he could've gone on to deal with the problems of someone else. That's what he does, these days. Goes around, helping us duellists with whatever problems we have with summoning. And keeping us in check, of course."

"Alone?" Harry asked. If Britain had fifty summoners, and the man had come from abroad, did that mean he dealt with the problems of every duellist everywhere? "That seems like whole lot of work for one person."

"No, he doesn't do it alone. There's a group of them, actually, the Duellist Court they're called. I think there's about a dozen people in it, but I don't know them all. Anyway, they do pretty much as the King does. They were the first of us, the first ones who got the ability to summon. They and a handful of other people," Mrs. Banks explained. "I was expecting one of the others to come and help me, actually. Yugi Mutou is the leader of the group so it was a bit of a shock that he himself appeared on my doorstep."

Harry frowned. "You make it sound like this summoning thing is a recent thing," he said. "How long have you been able to do it?"

"About five years, actually," she answered. "Though I was playing the game years before that. It was a shock, let me tell you. At first it started feeling like the cards were humming to me, and like they were echoing my feelings and thoughts back to me. Then, in fit of curiosity, I tried something new - and there she was, my Fire Princess... scared me half to death," The woman trailed away with a smile. "I know a few other people who got the ability about the same time as I did, their tales are pretty much the same."

Harry frowned, looking down at the cards. They had only been able to do it for five years? And everyone got the ability about the same time, and no one could do it before? _'It's like someone cast a spell on the whole world to enable this to happen,'_ he mused, talking the Arcanite Magician and examining the card closely. It wasn't humming to him in the slightest. _'But why?'_

"Where do the monsters come from?" he asked after moment of quiet. "Is there a place they all live, or... something?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking. The Fire Princess has tried to explain it to me, but... well, it's a little hard to understand. The popular theory is that they come from another dimension, a world of their own," Mrs. Banks said thoughtfully. "The Fire Princess calls it the Shadow Realm."

"Shadow Realm?" Harry muttered, raising his eyebrows. That didn't sound too... light. "Why Shadow?"

"Who knows," the woman shrugged. "The ability to summon and make spells with the cards is sometimes called shadow magic - the King used that term too - so it might have some reason, but I don't know what it is."

All in all, Mrs. Banks didn't seem to know much about the origins of the ability and, according to her own words, she wasn't too good with it herself but she knew enough to explain most of it to Harry and make him curious to know more. "I think I should have some books about the game itself - with the rules and some tips and what not. It's probably packed away in some box I haven't yet opened, but I could see if I can find it and give it to you," she offered. "That should help you get started with the game."

"I'd like that. Thanks," Harry nodded gratefully. He had a feeling he was going to need it too.

When he later that day slipped into the Privet Drive number four, he spent the rest of the evening studying the cards and trying to get a better feel of them - being so distracted with it that he completely forgot to check the news for Voldemort-related activity. That night he even saw dreams about the Arcanite Magician, which was certainly a welcome relief from the usual graveyard related nightmares.

The next day after reading the Daily Prophet, he got another annoyingly secretive letter from Hermione where she spoke of school work, asked him how far along his assignments were and told him that she couldn't say much in a letter and that they'd speak once they saw each other again, without giving any hint of when that would be. Though usually the letters he had gotten that summer had the tendency of sending him into a fit of annoyance, this time he merely dropped the letter in his trunk before grabbing his five cards and heading out of the house.

"What are you doing, boy?" Petunia demanded to know when he came downstairs. She was glaring at him over the spread newspaper. "If you want to read the paper, you can forget it."

"Already have. I'm going out," Harry answered and headed towards the front door. _'I suppose I've been a little weird this summer, hogging the newspaper and trying to sneak a glance at the news,'_ he mused as he stepped out. The Dursleys generally thought he was up to something most of the time, but this summer had been a little worse because of his need to keep an eye on the news. _'Ah, well, doesn't really matter now,'_ he thought and looked towards number fourteen, wondering if he could pay Mrs. Banks a visit. _'Well, doesn't hurt to ask.'_

Shrugging his shoulders, he headed towards the house, intending to ring the doorbell and politely ask if the woman would be willing to tell him a little bit more about the Magic and Wizards game and summoning. Before he could reach the house, however, someone called his name, making him glance up.

It was Mrs. Figg - who lately had gotten into the bothersome habit of asking him over for tea all the time. "Hello there, Harry," the batty old woman smiled to him, her eyes straying somewhere past his left shoulder. "Lovely day again. I was wondering if you would like to have a cup of tea with me. I just bought a new batch --"

Harry tried to smile politely but it came out as a grimace. "That's nice, Mrs. Figg, but I already had a cup of tea this morning," he lied. "Maybe later, you know?"

"Oh, it doesn't hurt to have two cups," the woman said, taking hold of his arm. "I found a new batch of pictures I have from when you were still a little boy and I was babysitting you. And Mr. Paws has been missing you, I can tell by the way his whiskers twitch every time I mention you."

While Harry made an attempt to free his arm, he tried not to think too closely about the old woman conversing with her many cats. _'Creepy cat lady. Why does she have it in for me all of a sudden?'_ he thought annoyed. "I'm sure it would be lovely to see him, and the pictures, but I, uh... I have prior engagements, okay? So maybe sometime later...." _'Maybe never, if that would be fine with you?'_

Mrs. Figg was already steering him towards Wisteria Walk, but thankfully, someone came to Harry's rescue. "Good morning there, Harry," Mrs. Banks called from her porch while picking up her newspaper. "I found the books I mentioned yesterday, if you want them. They're still in pretty good condition too."

"Really? That's great!" Harry said and hurriedly wrestled himself away from the old woman's grasp. "Sorry, Mrs. Figg. Maybe later," he said hurriedly and quickly made his way to Mrs. Banks, almost jogging to make sure to get enough distance between himself and the batty woman. He grinned sheepishly at the look Mrs. Banks gave him. "I'd like to see the books, please?" he asked.

"Well, come along then," she said, and, relieved, Harry followed her inside, leaving a frowning Mrs. Figg on the sidewalk. "That's the old lady from Wisteria Walk, isn't she?" Mrs. Banks asked. "You know her?"

"She used to be my baby sitter. I dunno why, but she's been inviting me for a tea a lot this summer," Harry muttered while toeing his sneakers off. "Weird old woman."

"Hmm..." Mrs. Banks narrowed her eyes while looking out of the window next to her front door. "For a tea, hm..? I saw she was holding your hand just there. Does she do that a lot?"

Harry blinked with confusion. "No more than usual. Why?"

"Strange women shouldn't be touching handsome youngsters like yourself inappropriately, is all," she said, making Harry blink with shock and then turn red with embarrassment. Raising her eyebrows, Mrs. Banks gave him a stern look. "She hasn't been touching you inappropriately, has she?"

"No! She's just... weird," Harry assured, grimacing. _'Great, now I can't get that thought out of my head,'_ he groaned mentally. "It's nothing like that, she's just odd and probably a little lonely or something," he said and shook his head. "Can I see the books? Please?" he asked, praying to change the subject.

"They're in the kitchen," Mrs. Banks said, shaking her head. "Help yourself to some tea if you'd like. I'll be right back."

Harry nodded gratefully and made his way to the kitchen. There were no less than five flat books, all printed with flashy imaginary and somewhat cool designs. While leafing through them and sipping his tea, Harry spent a moment mourning about the books used generally in the wizarding world. There were no moving pictures in the rule books before him, but he'd be damned if they didn't look more interesting than his potions and transfiguration texts.

"Here we go," Mrs. Banks said as she came back, carrying a cardboard box in her hands. She grinned and dropped the box before Harry. "The rest of my cards," she explained, opening the box to show that it was full of Magic and Wizards cards. "I've collected a few of them along the years, even though I don't use most of them. I thought you might want to have a look. Maybe pick a few I have no use for."

"Wow. Seriously?" Harry asked at the sight of the box. There had to be dozens of cards in it, if not hundreds.

"Mm-hm. It's not like they're much use to me, gathering dust in the attic," she answered, sitting down as well. "These are more or less useless for me, as all the cards I have need for are in my deck already."

"So I can just... pick some?" Harry asked a little incredulously.

"Yeah, sure," Mrs. Banks nodded. "At least you can go through these and get a feel for the cards. There are a lot of them in the game and if you don't know at least some, you will never be much of a player. So, go ahead and dig in."

At first cautiously and then with a little more enthusiasm, Harry reached for the box and started studying the cards. Soon he and Mrs. Banks were gathering little piles of similar cards while the woman explained how this or that spell or counter spell worked with this or that monster and how to apply the traps correctly. Harry was too modest to just accept the cards, but while going through them he started to understand how the game was played, and as a result, how the summons worked.

And so began his studies as a summoner.


	3. Shadow and Light

It wasn't until later that Harry, quite belatedly, realised that the art of summoning could be used in the war. Mrs. Banks had given him a long and hard look when he had asked whether or not summons could be used against people, but admitted that yes, they could be. That had thrown Harry into the train of thought that involved him with summons facing off against Voldemort - Voldemort who would probably never ever find out about Magic and Wizards. The man hated all things muggle after all, so there was no chance that he'd pick up a packet of collectible cards….

The revelation that he might actually one day have an _advantage_ over _Voldemort_ \- who previously had had the advantage of Dark Magic, an untold amount of followers and a good fifty years on him - was dampened by two things, though.

First was the fact that so far, despite several days and dozens of attempts at making a connection, the cards had not reacted to him in the slightest. Though he liked to imagine that the cool feeling he sometimes got from the Arcanite Magician card was because the monster was reacting to him, he knew that it was probably because it was so hot that anything that wasn't black and under direct sun light would probably feel cool.

The other reason why his advantage might turn out to be not an advantage at all was more complicated - and in the end, maybe even more dangerous than Voldemort. The Duellist Court.

"There are rumours of people like us who set their summons against people who had no way of protecting themselves from attack like that," Mrs. Banks told him when he asked about it. "It… well, the rumours aren't pretty. Imagine an attack from a powered up Arcanite Magician, against a perfectly normal person - the only way normal humans could even survive it would be because they got out of the way in time and magic is usually too fast to dodge…."

She frowned darkly. "In the first year… I think a few people were killed by summoned monsters, just like that. In the end, summoning a monster is no different from handling a knife or a gun, except for the fact that they can be hundreds of times more dangerous… if used by a skilled duellist. With the right spells and traps and a monster powerful enough, a summoner can, in a single attack, kill dozens of people, hundreds even…." The woman trailed away, shaking her head. "That's why the Court was originally established."

"So, they…. Aside from dealing with problems duellists have, deal with people who use monsters as weapons against normal people?" Harry asked a little nervously. "Um… what do they do to people like that?"

The woman glanced at him and smiled. "Rumour has it that most of those sorts of offenders end up permanently in mental hospitals," she said softly. "And no one really knows what happens to the rest, only that they are never found again."

After Mrs. Banks had explained to him what God Cards were and the fact that Yugi Mutou, the King of the Duellist Court, had all three of them, Harry had started taking the mysterious Court a little more seriously. However, he was still teetering on the line about whether or not he would one day use summons against his enemies. After all… it was likely that the Duellist Court knew nothing about the magical world. If he fought Voldemort with summons, would the King ever know?

 _'Now I've started thinking of him as a King too,'_ Harry thought with a slight frown. It was hard not to, though. The way Mrs. Banks spoke about the Court made it seem like she, and every duellist of her kind, was part of some nation of their own which stretched across the globe and which Yugi Mutou ruled as the King. It didn't help that everyone in the Court apparently had some sort of fancy title. They even had a _Regent_ according to Mrs. Banks, ready to step in if something happened to the King.

The thought of whether or not he would one day answer to the King of the Duellist Court before he answered to the Minister for Magic was a bit worrying and at the same time somewhat interesting, but it wasn't an issue just yet. Though Harry was learning about summoning, he wasn't a summoner himself, and, if his cards remained quiet, he never would be. Though he worried a little about whether or not wizards could do it at all and if the art could only be used by Muggles, he still kept trying. After seeing the King and Mrs. Banks summon their monsters, he desperately wanted to be able to do it himself.

While he struggled with the cards, the summer remained hot and the news remained Voldemort-free, both in the magical and non-magical worlds. Harry eventually stopped following them altogether, except to check the front pages of the daily papers before discarding them. If something happened, Hermione and Ron probably would inform him about it somehow - even if their letters were painfully short on information, they still would've let him know if Voldemort took over the Ministry or something. It was a relief to be able to stop fretting about the news and concentrate his attention on the cards. He suffered less stress that way.

Though of course there was stress of its own sort in the card game. The longer it went and the longer the cards refused to as much as twitch for him, the more aggravating it became. Especially since he often watched Mrs. Banks summon her monsters and cast her spells and traps so easily.

But the days went on, dragging and increasingly hot, and eventually his birthday passed by without a sign from the cards, and even the birthday presents Harry got - which involved two new card packets from Mrs. Banks - didn't much help his mood about the matter. By the time the hottest day of the summer came - much to his disbelief as it had been bloody hot _all bloody summer_ \- he was almost on the brink of giving up.

 _'I wonder if cards can be prejudiced,'_ he mused while staring at the Arcanite Magician, once more taking refuge in the deserted park. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had kicked him out of the house because he was apparently up to something and they wanted none of it. He didn't mind, though, as the air-conditioning had died that morning and it was hotter indoors than it was out, for once.

With a sigh he lowered the card to his lap, to join the fourteen others he owned. Mrs. Banks had suggested he'd try with some of the lower level monsters - one of his new monsters was a Magicat which she had suggested many times because apparently the monster was cute - but Harry had decided. The Arcanite Magician was the most powerful card he had and after all the time spent trying he just couldn't think of any other card being his first summon. _'Though maybe I'm being headstrong and trying fourth year spells in my first year,'_ he mused. The difficulty curve was about right.

Still. Mrs. Banks had told him that sometimes cards refused to react to a summoner who had plenty of potential simply because they didn't like them. There apparently were summoners who had had to change their decks completely in order to summon because certain types of monsters would have nothing to do with them. One duellist, who had a Light and Spirit oriented deck, had eventually made himself a torture deck because only the nastiest of monsters wanted to side with him. _'Maybe the Arcanite Magician doesn't like me….'_ That was a rather depressing thought.

Tilting his head to the side and lifting the card again - it was getting late and dark and he could barely see it when it was in his lap - he hummed. _'I wonder if it's possible to woo a monster to like me?'_ he wondered. _'They have minds and spirits and feelings and the humanoid ones can talk, so… maybe I can bribe them to like me?'_ the thought made him snort. He rather doubted that was possible. _'And if you have no gift, that's simply it. It doesn't matter how well the monsters like you, if you can't summon, you can't summon and no amount of spiritual affection is going to change that.'_ He sighed heavily. It would be so annoying if it turned out that the whole thing was just a waste of his time and he'd never be able to do it.

He was drawn from his thoughts by loud, off-key singing and a bout of nasty laughter. The source of the noise was a group of boys walking through the park, led by none other than his own cousin. _'I see_ _Dudley_ _has managed to get himself up from the couch today,'_ Harry thought to himself while piling his cards and hiding them in his pocket. _'And let me have three guesses what he's been up to. First two don't count,'_ he added, seeing Dudley mimic some boxing moves. He shook his head, wondering who the poor boy Dudley had beaten up this time was.

 _'Well, at least it's not me these days,'_ he thought while turning around so that he could stretch himself out on the bench. Thankfully his lump of a cousin was too afraid of magic to try anything these days. _'Now, let's see... is there any way I haven't used yet while trying to contact the Arcanite Magician...'_ he closed his eyes, thinking back to the many attempts of summoning the magician, all of which had failed. He had tried to treat the summoning like a spell, then like a request, then order, then a prayer, he had put his thoughts and emotions and once even tried to put his magic into it, pretending that the card was a wand....

"Hey, Big D, isn't that your freak of a cousin?" roused him from his thoughts, making him look up to see that two of Dudley's friends were already making their way towards him. First was Piers, the other was a boy he didn't know. Piers waved at Dudley and the two others, Malcom and Gordon. "Come on, you can show me that move again."

Harry raised his eyebrow, glancing between Dudley - _Big D_? Seriously? - who was lagging behind the first two and then the two other boys who obviously thought they would get the chance to see Dudley display his boxing talents. The wizard smiled faintly. This was going to be interesting. Dudley, who these days didn't want to touch him with a ten foot pole, and the boys who apparently thought that nothing had changed since the days of Harry Hunting.

"Show what move?" he asked, sitting up and grinning at Dudley, who gave him an uneasy look. "Come on, _Big D_ , I want to see it too...."

While Piers and the other boy laughed, leering something along the lines of "you won't just see it, you'll feel it!" at him, Dudley frowned. "I'm not in the mood," Dudley said, turning to leave. "Maybe later."

"Aww, come on, Big D! It's a perfect opportunity!" Piers said and then made a move to drag Harry to his feet. "Come on, I'll even hold him. It'll be perfect, like old times!"

Harry felt like laughing but barely managed to stop himself. The look Dudley gave his friend was priceless. Like he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Harry almost felt sorry for him - he really would've, if Piers hadn't been tugging on his arms in an attempt to lock them behind his back. Instead he merely grinned at Dudley all the while wondering _why the hell was he so bloody amused about this_? "Yeah, Dudley, it will be like the good old times," the wizard jeered. "Like before I went to _that_ school...."

"Yeah, pfft! The school of delinquents!" Piers crowed with laugher. "St. Brutus! I bet you're beaten up there too."

"You know, Piers, in a school like that you learn all sorts of tricks, being surrounded by people like you, worse than you... all with the same sort of... affinity," Harry answered, grinning with odd recklessness he hadn't felt since his first time on a broom. "You find that with the right _tools_ you can make just about _anything_ happen." He leaned back with a grin, glancing at the weasel-like boy. "You'd be amazed what I can do with just a little _stick_ these days, all learned from that school of mine, from my classmates and friends, some of who are worse than I am. And some who are better."

Dudley looked absolutely pasty and the sight was so perfect Harry had to laugh. He had been dreaming of this day for _years_ and here it was at last, Dudley before him, scared witless because of him! Piers and the other boys, on the other hand, were suddenly looking confused, even a little worried. The nameless boy even shifted a little away from Harry, who threw him a little grin. Apparently having the reputation of a hardened hooligan was good for something after all. "And you know, boys... I live in a room next to Big D's. And Big D makes a Big Target for my little stick of doom."

"You... you _freak_!" Piers spat.

"Didn't you need to head home?" Dudley asked Piers, looking pale and uncomfortable. "We can, uh... deal with Harry later." He lifted his eyebrows meaningfully and Harry had a sudden thought that _deal with later_ also translated to _once we have a bigger group_. The thought made him snort. Was Dudley actually, intentionally misleading his friends? Brilliant.

"Fine," Piers spat and threw Harry back to the bench. "You'll get what's coming to you, freak," he added before glancing at Dudley. "See you later, Big D."

Harry watched Dudley and his friends say their goodbyes in an odd sort of delighted haze. Once Piers and the other boy were far enough, Dudley still standing awkwardly beside the bench, he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, that was brilliant!" he snickered. "Made my day, it really did!"

"You freak," Dudley answered rather dispassionately and made a move to leave.

Harry kept chuckling, trying to press the scene into his memory. Oh, what would he give to get a Pensieve right then... the memory was just too brilliant not to live through again and again. "I'm never going to forget this moment," he said out loud. "If I could have a picture of this, I'd frame it and put it on a wall for all to see. It'd be a good picture too, the sort used by my kind, you know, so that no one would miss you backing away with your tail between your legs."

"Shut it," Dudley growled. "Just because I didn't want to get into trouble --"

"When have you ever consciously avoided trouble, Dudders?" Harry asked amusedly. "Especially if it involves me? Ah, to think back to the _good old times_..." he grinned and looked the other up and down. "Makes me almost sad to see you all grown up, Diddykins. Though you never were exactly small, were you?"

Dudley opened his mouth, but the words seemed to die on his lips before coming out as a weak, rather disbelieving croak. A sudden chill crept along Harry's spine as the street lamps seemed to flicker out, their artificial beams of light blown away like candle flames in wind. The stars all went out as the dark blue sky turned pitch black - and suddenly the upcoming hot night was there, and it was frozen. The sounds vanished, replaced by an odd feeling of being closed in a tight dark space and as Harry was overcome by a sudden feeling of chill, he couldn't help but gape in disbelief.

"Wha-what are you doing?!" Dudley gasped, shivering and grabbing a hold of his chest as if having a heart attack. "Stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything, Dudley," Harry said, looking wildly around. This was magic, he knew this was magic. But for a split a second he didn't know _which_ magic it was. He had seen Mrs. Banks lay down field cards that could turn the woman's living room into a mountain side or forest or just about anything, so this too could be because of a field card. And yet... and yet....

"I can't see anything," Dudley groaned, swaying and rubbing his eyes. "I've g-gone blind! Stop doing this!"

"Shut up, Dudley, and don't move!" Harry ordered, looking around for the source of the magic. The cold was getting worse, making him shiver and shudder and suddenly he had a feeling, a terrible, disbelieving feeling, about what was happening. But it couldn't be, _couldn't be_! Why would there be - in Little Whinging of all places...?!

"Stop doing this! I'll t-tell dad! No, I'll hit you! I swear I'll hit you if you don't stop this!" Dudley moaned, swaying again. He made a threatening move towards Harry - and then collapsed under the weight of the sudden, intense cold, barely managing to take support from the park bench.

And there it was, a shadow appearing from the darkness around them, movements graceful as if it wasn't so much moving as it was floating through space. Harry stared, gob smacked, for a split second, before grabbing hold of Dudley's arm. "Run, Dudley, we’ve got to run, now!" he said, trying to pull the other up, but Dudley was too heavy and too out of it, whimpering incoherently and not even trying to move. The Dementor, which was slowly coming closer with its cloak fluttering in the still air, was having too big an effect on him.

"Shit, shit, shit," Harry hissed and groped for his wand - only to realise to his utter most horror, that he didn't have it. He cried out in dismay and anger - all directed at himself - for being stupid enough to leave the house without protection. He had probably been too concentrated on the bloody cards to even remember the bloody wand and now he was going to _die_ for it! And not just him, but Dudley too.

The notion of leaving his cousin to the Dementor and running didn't even occur to Harry as he wildly looked around for anything - a branch, a rock, something to throw at the Dementor and maybe give them a chance to run. But there was nothing, even the park bench seemed to be gone all of the sudden, and they were alone, alone at the mercies of the most terrible of all dark creatures....

The Dementor was closer now, reaching for Dudley with its bony, slimy hands - and suddenly, there was a spark of light in the total darkness. Harry glanced at it with surprise - the light was coming from his pocket, shining right through the denim. For one ridiculous moment he wondered if he had his wand after all and if he had called for Lumos, before the shape of the light registered. Gasping with surprise and sudden, odd hope, he pulled out his thin stack of fifteen cards, and stared with surprise. The topmost of them was shining so brightly that he couldn't even tell what card it was - except he knew, he knew somewhere inside him, that it was the Arcanite Magician.

Like in a dream, Harry thrust the cards forward, almost shoving the shining card into the Dementor's face. It recoiled slightly due to the light, and then completely when the light burst forward. It was nothing like when Mutou had summoned - there were no subtle, curling shadows. Instead it was bright, almost like an explosion of light, that only when it began breaking up revealed the monster that had appeared. The Arcanite Magician stood there, in a rather gaudy white robe that had massive shoulders and a hood with what looked like horns.

As Harry gaped, the blue skinned monster before him pointed the heavy looking metal staff it wielded at the Dementor, and shot what looked like a controlled burst of light at it. The Dementor recoiled again, but not completely. The attack seemed to only make it angry, for it moved back in soon after, slimy hands reaching for the Arcanite Magician, head leaning forward, as if to _Kiss_ the monster.

Harry had barely managed to overcome the fact that he had actually summoned when his summon was already in danger. He made a move to leave Dudley's side, opening his mouth to call to the Magician, to order it to attack again, when he felt a chill run down his spine. Acting on instinct, he whirled around only to see another Dementor swooping down, hands reaching for him. He gasped, hands shaking and cards almost spilling from his fingers, as the slimy hands took hold of his throat....

There was a flash of blinding light, raining down on them like fire, and everything froze. The Dementor before him was surrounded by what looked like crosses made of lightning, crosses which now littered the entire area. Harry gasped, wrestling himself out of the Dementor's hold, more than slightly surprised that it didn't follow. It _couldn't_ follow.

"Well, now. This is interesting," a familiar accented voice spoke, and almost reluctantly Harry turned to see the King of the Duellist Court, standing not far from them with a shadow hovering behind him, a deck of cards in one hand and single card held in another. The leather clad man smiled, swinging the single card from side to side in between his fingers. "Swords of Revealing Light," he explained. "Will hold them in place for about three minutes."

"...Oh," Harry muttered, looking around. It wasn't only the Dementor that had attacked him, but both of them had been nailed down by the crosses - swords. Harry drew a quivering breath, looking between the first Dementor and the Arcanite Magician who was now holding his staff in a defensive position, and sighed. "This... is unbelievable."

"Mm-hmm," Mutou nodded in agreement, stepping closer, the red eyed shadow following his each step steadily. "Summoning a level seven monster on the first try. Impressive. Especially considering that you're beneath a suppression field."

"What?" Harry asked with confusion.

"Well, I suppose it's not called that, exactly, but that's what it does with shadow magic, I seems. It suppresses summoning, among other things, making it nearly impossible. And yet you summoned Arcanite Magician here... very interesting," Mutou murmured while Harry felt like banging his head against the park bench. No bloody wonder he hadn't been able to summon before. He lived in the centre of the blood ward!

"Now, these are like no shadow monster's I've ever seen, but no matter," the King hummed while circling around the second Dementor, the shadow lingering behind to take a closer look at the dark creature. Mutou ignored the shadow and looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. "Do you realise why the Arcanite Magician didn't do more than enrage these shadowy things?"

Harry blinked. "What?" he asked with disbelief. There were _Dementors_ before the man, and he only cared about why the Arcanite Magician's attack hadn't worked?

"On his lonesome the Arcanite Magician isn't that strong," Mutou said, completely ignoring the look Harry gave him as the red eyed shadow moved to join his side again. "You need to help him there, you know." The man reached forward and plucked Harry's cards right from his fingers, going through them quickly. He frowned and shook his head. "Well, these aren't much use either," he muttered, handing the cards back to a confused Harry and looking at his own deck.

"What are you --" Harry started asking and stopped as the man took out a handful of his own cards and held them out. There were flashes and burst of wind and blinding light, and all of sudden the Arcanite Magician was glowing.

"Tell him to attack now," Mutou ordered, looking a little smug.

"Uh... Attack?" Harry asked, but the monster took it as an order. The wizard had to turn his eyes away as the Arcanite Magician applied his staff again - this time the light was powerful enough to light the entire park. Harry could distantly hear an odd scream which sounded almost like it was coming from under water - and then the Arcanite Magician had already turned around to attack the other Dementor. There was another distant scream, and then complete silence.

"Good," the King said, sounding satisfied. The crosses of light vanished, leaving only the Arcanite Magician glowing. The stars were coming back, however, along with the street lamps. In their light Harry saw, to his incredulous horror and amazement, that there was almost nothing left of the Dementors, only some pieces of burning black fabric that floated in the air before falling to the dry ground.

"What did... just...?" Harry mumbled, looking between the whimpering Dudley, glowing Arcanite Magician and the King of the Duellist Court. Then, overcome by sudden bout of weakness, he fell to his knees, his _bones_ aching.

"And that would be the rebound - the price of summoning a level seven monster without any sacrifices," Mutou answered calmly, looking at Arcanite Magician thoughtfully. "Impressive first summon, definitely, but you will certainly feel it in the morning," he chuckled and then gave Harry a stern look, motioning at the white clad, blue skinned monster. "Now, my little spy, thank your new ally for his help and let him return home."

Harry blinked a little blearily and looked at the Magician, who was smiling down on him. As Harry watched, trying to get his mouth to working, the blue skinned monster knelt down and bowed his horn-hooded head at him. "T-thank you," Harry stuttered. "You... you can go now."

 The Arcanite Magician glowed for a moment a little brighter than before, before disappearing without a sound, leaving only floating sparks in his wake. Harry stared at them as they drifted down, and blinked with incomprehension. _'Did… did that just happen?'_ he wondered, feeling like he had been dreaming since the encounter with Dudley's gang. A little helpless, he turned up to look at Mutou for some sort of explanation or verdict or... anything.

"I think he likes you," the King murmured, sounding amused while the shadow behind him shifted closer, see-though arms wrapping around the man's shoulders casually. The duellist didn't even seem to notice it. "Now what to do with this one?" he asked, crouching beside Dudley who whimpered and tried to back away from Mutou, almost ending up underneath the park bench as he did. The King of the Duellist Court snorted softly. "You, Dudley Dursley, would make a poor duellist indeed. That was hardly a fight and you're already a blubbering mess."

"G-get away from me!" Dudley cried. "Don't touch me!

"Oh, be quiet," Mutou rolled his eyes while going through his deck idly. He picked a card from the deck and summoned the same monster he had summoned in Mrs. Banks' house, the Dark Magician. Mutou spoke a few words in a foreign language while motioning at Dudley, and before Harry could do or say anything, the Dark Magician had already reached for his cousin. Next thing both of them vanished in a swirl of shadows, leaving him completely alone with the King of the Duellist Court.

"W-what did you do to him?" Harry asked, shifting back a little.

"The Dark Magician will take him home, where he can whine and blubber all he wants to his parents. As for you," Mutou trailed away with a thoughtful look about his face. "I think I will want to have a nice long chat with you."

"Wha --" was all Harry managed to say before Mutou grabbed a hold of his hand, and the shadows burst from the ground beneath them. Then the ground vanished from beneath him - along with everything else from stars to lights to sounds to sensations, and for a moment he felt like he was falling through black nothingness with Mutou's hand the only solid thing near him… before it stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" he asked as he found himself sitting on asphalt. It only took one glance to realize that he wasn't in the park anymore. A longer look made it apparent that he wasn't in Little Whinging anymore, either. "Was that Apparation or something?"

"Shadow travel is what I call it, but I suppose you could call it appearing too, if you want to. It doesn't really have an official name, as it is," Mutou answered, standing up and dragging Harry to his feet. "Now come along. You need to eat something."

"What?" Harry asked, only then noticing that they were in front of a... fast food restaurant. "Burger World?" he asked confusedly.

"Yes," Mutou agreed, already pushing him towards the establishment. "Best place for a burger in my opinion. I don't know exactly what it is about you British people, but I can't stand your food most of the time. Somehow you manage to get even the simple things like burgers wrong - though I admit, your French fries are probably better than anywhere else...."

Harry gave a rather wild look at an advertisement they passed by on their way in; it was written in a foreign language. And when Mutou took him to the counter, the man launched into a discussion in a completely foreign language, making Harry realise that not only had the King of the Duellist Court Disapparated him out of _Little Whinging_ , but out of _Britain_.

"Holy crap," he whispered to himself, giving the man beside him a wide eyed look. He hadn't even known it was possible to Apparate between countries. And if he was right - and he was pretty certain he was - they were on a whole different side of the world too. That certainly shouldn't have been possible.

"There we go. Now, let's see... ah, there's a window seat open over there, perfect," Mutou spoke finally in English again, before starting to steer Harry towards one of the tables. Harry complied rather numbly as the King sat him down, before sitting down himself across the table.

"Where exactly are we?" Harry asked quietly, glancing out of the window. There was some sort of advertisement board out on the street, written full of an almost alien looking text. "And why did you bring me here?"

"For a burger, obviously. After summoning like that, you need to eat - and as I am a little peckish myself, I figured we might as well eat in a place I like to eat in, and what a better place than the one and only Burger World of Domino City?" Mutou answered calmly as the shadow constantly hovering about him settled down to the seat beside him. "And I wanted to have a chat with you about those hooded figures that attacked you."

"The Dementors?" Harry asked, shifting nervously in his seat.

"Dementors..." Mutou murmured slowly, as if tasting the name. He glanced at the red eyed shadow beside him before looking at Harry again, frowning. "They weren't shadow monsters as I know them. After the Arcanite Magician attacked them, they should’ve dispersed and returned to the Shadow Realm like regular shadow monsters do. But they didn't. Instead they were _disintegrated_ , like a being made of flesh and blood would've - which makes one wonder. Especially since you seem to know what the... Dementors were."

Harry swallowed. The whole thing felt like a dream. Dementors in Little Whinging, him summoning more or less accidentally a monster to defend himself, Mutou appearing from nowhere and saving them... and now they were in _Japan_ , waiting for burgers? "Why do you want to know?" Harry asked, wondering if he was breaking the statute of secrecy or not. Were summoners categorised as muggles? What Mutou had done was clearly magic, but nothing like the magic most wizards and witches did.

Mutou gave him a silent look. "Mrs. Banks has told you who I am, hasn't she?" he then asked, to which Harry nodded confusedly. "Then there you have it. I want to know because it is my _job_ to know. I just witnessed those creatures attacking a fledgling summoner and a normal person, and if this is going to happen again, I need to know more."

Harry shifted in his seat awkwardly. "I don't think they attacked me because I'm a, uh... summoner," he said nervously. There was only one reason why there would be Dementors in Little Whinging, and it had nothing to do with shadow magic.

"They attacked you? Specifically? So it was an arranged attack?" Mutou asked, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. There was a moment of silence before the man made an impatient sound. "I am waiting," he said in a low, demanding tone.

Harry wanted to retort something along the lines of _why should I tell you_ , but in all honesty he simply didn't dare to. He was very aware of the fact that if Mutou wanted to, the man could leave him stranded in the foreign country they were in and Harry had no way of getting back home. He had no money with him of any country's or society's currency, he didn't know the language, he couldn't Apparate not to even mention about Apparating between _continents_. And on top of that, the man probably had other methods of extorting him at his disposal. So, instead of being cheeky, he coughed softly. "What do you know about magic?"

"Certainly more than you do," the man said amusedly.

"No, I don't mean... this summoning thing. I mean real magic," Harry answered a little nervously. He could go to jail for this, for revealing the secret to a possible muggle, but at that moment the Ministry of Magic was a secondary concern to getting back home and to get back home he probably needed to do as this man wanted. "I'm, uh... that is... I'm a wizard."

Mutou raised his eyebrows at him. "A... wizard?" he asked.

"Yes. There's whole bunch of us, actually - wizards and witches that is. Most of us live in sort of secret communities hidden from normal folk, muggles. We have a government and everything - and of course, schools and hospitals and stuff. I go to a school called Hogwarts in Britain. It basically teaches magic to young witches and wizards - you know, charms and spells and potions and stuff --"

"Whoa, whoa, stop," Mutou raised his hand before Harry could babble any further. "Wizard," the man said, his eyes wide while the shadow leaned forward, its red eyes looking equally surprised. "As in... you have natural magic?"

"Um... yes? I was born with it. My mum was a witch and my dad was a wizard," Harry nodded. "I uh need a wand to do it – a wand which I, being an idiot and all, left home today which is why I didn't use it to defend myself. I know a spell which works brilliantly on Dementors, but..." he trailed away, slouching his shoulders a little as Mutou kept staring at him silently. "Um… yeah. I'm a wizard. With magic."

"Natural magicians still exist?" the man asked softly, looking a little lost. "I thought... we thought they had all died out. There are more of you?"

"Hundreds in Britain, thousands maybe. There's over two hundred students in my school, almost three hundred," Harry nodded. "Plus the teachers, of course."

"And no one knows about it? About you?"

"Ah, yeah. There's a statute of secrecy that forbids telling normal people - I'm breaking it right now, by the way," Harry muttered and shook his head. "I think it was made during the time of witch burnings and such - wizards decided that it was best if muggles simply didn't know we still exist, so... they don't. If the secret ever gets out or someone does magic in a muggle neighbourhood, it's covered up and people's memories are modified so that the knowledge doesn't spread. It's been like that for centuries...."

He stopped speaking when Mutou leaned back, looking almost horrified. "We thought you were extinct," the man said, his words soft and almost wondering. "And here you are, right before me. A flesh-and-blood natural magician."

Mutou fell silent as a waitress brought their orders - two enormous burgers, along with two plates of French fries and enormous cups of soda. Shaking his head with wonder, the King of the Duellist Court unwrapped his own burger, still looking a little blown away.

"How did you... I mean, you knew we existed at some point and then thought we were extinct?" Harry asked. "How does that work?"

"We know for a fact that people like you existed three thousand years ago. The Dark Magician and the Arcanite Magician and just about every other magician in the game, they were people like you once, before they gave their souls to the service of summoners," Mutou answered. "But these days there is no sign of living magicians anywhere, no whispers, no rumours, nothing. So, naturally, we thought that there were simply none left. The idea that you were living in hiding... we never considered it."

Three thousand years ago? Harry frowned with confusion. What did that have to do with anything? And did the man mean that the monsters of Magic and Wizards had been _people_ once?

"So, this Dementor creature... it came after you because you're a wizard?" Mutou asked. "Is that common among your kind? And exactly what are the Dementors anyway?"

"They are dark creatures, they're one of the most dangerous magical creatures there are," Harry answered with a frown. "They usually guard the magical prison of Azkaban under the control of the Ministry of Magic. But, uh... last year a Dark Lord of sorts rose and I think the Dementors are following his orders, now."

The King lifted single eyebrow at him. "Ministry of Magic, hm? Interesting. And a _Dark Lord_?" he asked. "And this Dark Lord sent these Dementors to kill all wizards?"

"Well, no, I don't think so. Just me. I'm sort of his enemy number one..." Harry answered, grimacing. It was hard to try and explain the matter of Voldemort to someone who didn't know a thing about the dark lord, not without sounding like a mental case.

"Okay, um... here's the deal. There are certain sorts of wizards. There are wizards who are the children of other wizards, they're called purebloods. And the more wizarding ancestors they have, the purer their blood is. Or that is how they like to think of it, but I don't think blood matters at all," Harry added. "Anyway, then there are other sorts of wizards - the sort that are born to parents with no magic at all. We call them muggleborns because, you know, they were born to muggles. Now, certain purebloods think that muggleborns shouldn't be allowed to learn magic or be part of the magical nation."

Mutou nodded slowly, looking a little confused. "Alright…"

"The Dark Lord, Voldemort, he thinks so too," Harry continued, hoping that if he got it all out quickly, it wouldn't sound so retarded. "He started a war over it decades ago, gathered a whole bunch of pureblood followers and tried to take over control of magical Britain. He killed a lot of people and so forth, wanted to purge muggleborns from society. Of course, people fought against him. My parents fought against him too, and he was… sort of, vanquished about fourteen years ago. But he more or less came back from the dead last spring…."

"And he wants you dead because your parent's fought against him?" the King asked.

"No. I mean. Yes, I guess that's partially it, but… I don't know how it happened, but I was sort of the reason why he died the first time. He tried to kill me when I was a baby, but the curse bounced back and killed him instead," Harry said a little helplessly. "Bit embarrassing for him to be killed by a baby, which is why he wants to kill me, to show everyone that I'm no threat to him."

"And that is why he sent the Dementors," Mutou mused.

"Yeah, probably," Harry said and then bowed his head a little. "Um, thanks, by the way. For saving me and my cousin," he said, before frowning a little. "Why were you there anyway?"

"I was watching you, of course," Mutou answered, looking at him like he was stupid. "I wanted to see whether or not you could do it. Summon that is."

"And you didn't think to help me and Dudley when the Dementors appeared?" Harry asked, frowning. "Wait, you've been _stalking_ me?"

"If you want to call it that," Mutou smiled and took a bite of his hamburger. "Eat," he ordered with his mouth full and with a disbelieving shake of his head, Harry did. It was almost surprising how hungry he suddenly found himself. "So," Mutou said after moment of thought. "I think I need more information about that magical nation of yours, and this Dark Lord. Is there any place I can go to find out?"

"I don't… I mean. I don't know if I should tell you. You're not a wizard, I ought not to --"

"You can tell me or not. Either way, I'm not going to stop following you now, so I suppose I'm bound to find out eventually," the King snorted softly. Harry scowled and got a grin in answer. "You're the most interesting summoner we've gotten in a while, so I'll be sticking around whether you like it or not. Besides if there are natural magicians out there, I need to know more."

"Still… you're not a wizard," Harry muttered.

"But _you_ are a summoner," Mutou said, looking mildly amused. "And who am I again? Hm?"

"… The King?" the wizard asked, feeling a little silly for actually saying it out loud. "You're the King of the Duellist Court."

"Exactly. And you are now part of the kingdom I rule," the duellist grinned at him. "So, are you really sure you want to try keeping things from me, my fledgling summoner?"

Harry frowned, taking a bite of his burger. "Is it really a kingdom?" he asked a little nervously after swallowing. Had he committed himself to something like that without really thinking it through completely?

"Well, we have no land and ask no taxes, but we are the only law that rules and punishes summoners. After all, under what court can a crime committed by summoners be judged?" Mutou shook his head, glancing at the shadow beside him. "And of course we aid summoners with whatever problems they have, as proven by Mrs. Banks. Which is, mainly, why I wish to know more about wizarding kind. So that I can help _you_."

"…Really?" Harry asked a little disbelievingly.

"Well, I'm curious about them too, of course. But still, a summoner who is also a natural magician? I don't want to lose you before you have even gotten the chance to start, especially considering the potential you seem to have," the King said and took a sip of his soda. "So. Willing to tell me where I can find more information, hm?"

Harry hesitated. It was such a weird conversation to be having in such a place - and he still hadn't wrapped his mind around the whole Dementors, monsters and suddenly being in Japan bit. That was probably why he dared to ask, "If I tell you, will you tell me something?"

"Ask, and I will tell if I can," Mutou nodded.

"What is that?" Harry asked, pointing at the red eyed shadow listening to their conversation, which seemed to almost jump back when Harry pointed at it.

Mutou stared at him wide eyed for a moment then asked slowly, "You can see him?" to which Harry nodded with a frown. The wizard almost jumped back when the King of the Duellist Court suddenly grinned, wide and oddly ferocious. "I _definitely_ want to keep you now," the man said, and Harry wasn't sure if he had made a mistake or not.


	4. Phoenix Order

Mutou did not tell him much about the shadow, only saying rather enigmatically, "He is my partner." Which sounded to Harry kind of worrisome. Still, Harry did tell Mutoumore about the wizarding world. As Harry couldn't exactly point to Hogsmeade on a map, the Diagon Alley entrance of the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road was the only really meaningful bit of information he could give, but it seemed to satisfy the King of the Duellist Court.

"I can't guarantee you can see it. The Leaky Cauldron's been hidden from muggles and, uh… you're not a wizard," Harry said.

"I might not be one myself, but Dark Magician is," Mutou answered calmly while taking out something from one of the holsters he had on his many, seemingly only decorative belts. Harry thought it was another deck of cards at first - made sense for the man to have several, considering who he was - but it was too slim to be a full deck. "Besides, if there are shadows in the place, then there is a way in as well. Now, take this and put it somewhere secure."

Harry blinked and accepted the card handed to him. At first he thought it was another Magic and Wizards card - it looked the same, even had the same back side and design - but something about it was different. The card's image only showed a golden crown, and its name was simply _The King_. Harry frowned. Instead of the stats which usually read below the card, there was only written _Busy_ and _Burger World,_ along with bit of Japanese Harry couldn't understand.

"What is this?" Harry asked with confusion.

"That is my business card, in a way," Mutou answered while sliding the slim deck across the table so that all the images on them showed. All of the cards had different pictures on them but there was one more crown - a silver one named _The Regent -_ and though all the rest were items of sort, there was also what at first looked like Hogwarts but a closer look revealed to be a much smaller castle. The other cards had different names too, but Harry could only make out _The_ _Knight_ and _The Priestess_ due the fact that the cards overlapped each other, hiding the names. "My Court," the King said, passing his hand over the cards. "Each of us has a card, a special card that summons _us_."

Harry's eyes widened and he looked a little closer at the card he was holding. It seemed so simple, just a picture of a golden crown on a royal red background, and a bit of text he didn't really understand. "That sort of thing is possible?" he asked quietly, glancing at the other cards. There weren't that many of them. Only about a dozen. _'If that's all of the_ _Duellist Court_ _, then I suppose it isn't that big….'_

"Normally, no. But all of us in the Court come from special circumstances which makes us a little bit closer to the shadow realm than normal summoners are," Mutou said with a shrug while stacking the cards up again. "We needed a way to contact each other, and this was the securest way to do it. We are not shadow monsters, obviously, but the cards still do work as if we were - if you're strong enough to use them." Mutou smiled and put the slim deck away. "Only a handful people outside the Court have any of these special cards - you, in fact, are only the second person who has _my_ card, beside the Court."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed is as the words he had meant to speak didn't come out. Then he tried again. "Why are you giving this to me?" he asked slowly.

"Because you strike me as a person who might need help sometime soon," the King answered. "I told you, my fledgling summoner, I am not about to let you head off to an uncertain future without any help. I have a feeling that where you're going, you need to have an ace up your sleeve - or a king, as it were." Chuckling he stretched his arms, making Harry momentarily aware that for a man he wore rather gaudy bracelets. Then the man stood up. "Now I think it's time I take you home. It should be getting rather late in England right about now."

"Ah… yes, right," Harry muttered and gave the crown card in his hand a rather helpless look. It needed a holster of its own or at least some sort of box or envelope, something to protect it from wear and tear. But all he had to offer was the same pocket where his own cards were. With a sigh, he slipped the crown card between the other cards, hoping that they'd shield it.

It was a somewhat surreal moment, as they emptied their table of the trays and trash and then left Burger World. The conversation they had had, in Harry's mind, didn't belong in a fast food restaurant, but someplace grand and unique. Hogwarts' Great Hall, maybe. Or some really expensive and fancy restaurant. Not a cheap… burger place.

"Before we go…" Harry frowned a little, fiddling his hands. "What… what are you going to do about wizarding world? If you don't mind me asking?"

"What am I going to _do about it_?" Mutou asked amusedly. "I don't think it's mine to do anything with. I'm not a wizard, as you have often said. I will take a look, study it if I can, so that I know what is going on, what I have missed and what I might be up against if a thing like the Dementor attack happens again. But that is all."

Harry sighed. He really didn't need another potential threat to worry about - Voldemort and the Ministry were bad enough already. "I suppose that's a relief."

"You think I'm a meddler, then?" the King asked with a grin, glancing up to the sky, where the sun had started to rise. "That could be fun, but my hands are full with my own world, I am afraid. You wizards are interesting and I will learn more, but if they aren't summoners then all they are... is a curiosity for me." He held out his hand. "And not mine to meddle with."

"And I am?" Harry frowned, but took the hand.

"I don't intend to meddle," Mutou answered and smiled almost gently, the shadow circling its arms around the man's waist and joining the King in his smile. "I will merely watch and see what becomes of you."

 _'That isn't really an answer,'_ Harry thought and would've answered, but the ground fell from beneath his feet and for a moment, there was nothing but a rush of blackness. Then, almost too quickly, there was ground again. The morning was suddenly gone, and the park around them almost faded into the shadows of the upcoming night. It was only because of the streetlamps that they could see anything at all. "It's almost midnight here," Harry muttered with mild surprise and checked his watch. Twenty minutes to midnight, actually.

"Ah, time zones. A headache for even the best of us," Mutou answered, chuckling and shaking his head. He glanced around in the park before frowning. "I think it is best I walk you to your home. Just in case."

Considering that the last time he had been in the park, Dementors had attacked him, Harry certainly didn't mind. So he nodded with a grim smile and turned to lead the man towards the shortcut between the park and the Privet Drive.

"Now that I think about it, you mentioned that had you had your wand, you could've fought the Dementors," Mutou said, perhaps trying to lighten the sudden, rather dark mood.

"Yeah, there's a spell… I, uh, learned it two years ago at Hogwarts - in my third year - because I'm… kind of weak against Dementors," Harry answered with some measure of awkwardness. It was a miracle he hadn't just passed out when the Dementors had appeared. That was his usual reaction to the creatures. "But I can't do magic without a wand, so… I shouldn't be doing magic at all, not allowed outside Hogwarts. Well, not until I'm of the age anyway."

"That seems like an unfair restriction," Mutou answered. "In ancient times it was almost mandatory to do as much magic as you could when you were still young. Helped the talent grow, or so it was believed - though the side effects of that were sometimes a little amusing, I imagine."

Harry glanced at the man. "The way you speak about it makes it almost seem like you were there," he said, wondering if the man was some sort of history fanatic.

"I wasn't - not really. He was, though," Mutou answered, pointing at the shadow beside him - who right then looked only like a pair of red eyes, floating in the darkness. "Most of our finer summoning knowledge comes from him."

Harry raised his eyebrows with surprise. _'So, the shadow or ghost or whatever he is, he's… ancient? Well, there are pretty old ghosts in Hogwarts too, I bet, but ancient as in Ancient_ _Egypt_ _ancient?'_ "That… must come in handy?" he offered awkwardly.

The King smiled. "At times," he said, and got an irritated look from the floating eyes for his effort. He smiled back benignly before facing Harry again. "Still. Is it common to have spells specially made to fight certain creatures?" he asked.

"Sometimes, when the creature's dangerous," Harry answered. "Some magical creatures, though… they are magic resistant. Like trolls and dragons and werewolves. Not much magic can affect them as far as spells go --"

"Trolls? Werewolves? _Dragons_?" Mutou asked almost excitedly while the shadow beside him leaned closer, he too looking curious. "Really?"

"Ah, yeah," Harry nodded sheepishly. "Elves, mermaids, unicorns, centaurs and the like too. Oh, and goblins run our bank."

"Oh, I really need to find out more," the King of the Duellist Court whispered and Harry could almost see the shadow grinning.

The wizard looked away to hide his smile. It was oddly endearing to see someone so enthusiastic about things that nowadays seemed commonplace. Though, having been attacked by a troll in his first year, taught by a werewolf in his third and then having to fight a dragon in his fourth... it sort of dampened the appeal of the fantasy creatures. _'Still, I was never all that excited about the creatures. All I cared about was two things. Getting away from the Dursleys and having an ability that justified me being a freak,'_ he mused and looked up at Privet Drive number four. He sighed. _'Getting away from the Dursleys would be lovely now too, though.'_

"I guess this is where I leave you," Mutou said. "You're going to be alright, now?"

"I think so," Harry sighed, wondering what sort of tall tale Dudley had told his parents about the Dementor incident. He had a feeling that there was much shouting waiting for him on the other side of the front door.

"Well, you have my card. So, if you need help..." Mutou trailed away with a smile. "Also, do me a favor and get some spell cards. Counters preferably. The Arcanite Magician is an impressive first summon, but that is all he's ever going to be unless you treat him right."

"I will," Harry nodded seriously. The monster had saved his and Dudley's lives - with Mutou's help, but still. He wasn't about to skirt his new duties as a summoner and forget the beast.

"Good," Mutou nodded and waved his hand just as shadows burst from his feet, instantly consuming his legs. "Till next time, then," the man said, and the shadows swept him away as if he had been nothing but a mirage. Harry looked at the spot he had been standing in for a moment, before sighing and turning to face the Dursley house.

 _'Time to face the music, I guess,'_ he thought with a sigh, and knocked.

What followed seemed oddly like an explosion. The door was yanked open and away from under his hand, and while he staggered forward with surprise, he blearily thought, _'Oh boy, this is going to be bad.'_ But unlike what he had thought, he wasn't being glowered down at by a mad Uncle Vernon. Instead there was a crowd of people stuffed in the Dursley’s hall, all pointing wands at him.

"HARRY!" several of the people yelled, and one of them made a move to grab him - it looked like Lupin for a moment, but he couldn't tell for sure - before someone shouted. "Stop it! STOP IT! He might be under Imperious or worse!" After which he was at wand point again, trying to figure out why the voice sounded familiar.

It was Alastor Moody, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor from his previous year. And sure enough, next to him stood Remus Lupin in his shabby, patched up robes. There were other people he didn't know - a violet haired young witch next to whom stood a bald, dark skinned wizard. Behind them there was another, elder wizard, along with a younger wizard in an odd top hat. Then there was a stately looking witch in a shawl next to wizard with straw-coloured hair. Harry could only barely make out the last person behind the rest, a black haired witch.

"Um..." Harry started rather dully. "What's going on?"

Everyone tried to answer all at once - but all Harry could make out was something about owls and summoning charms before Moody barked "SHUT UP!" to the crowd, who reluctantly quieted down. "Come here, Potter," Moody then said in a somewhat quieter voice - not much, though - before grabbing a hold of Harry's shirt and dragging him into the house. As he was dragged into the living room, he couldn't help but wonder where the Dursleys were and what they thought of the madness going on around their house.

"Now, sit down and shut up for a moment. And keep your wands on him, you idiots; he could be someone under Polyjuice potion!" Moody barked his orders before starting to wave his wand over Harry, probably running some sort of examination charms.

Harry sat still, more due to confusion than anything else. His mind hadn't quite yet caught up with the whole wizards in the Dursleys' house thing. _'Then again, this has been one truly mad day,'_ he thought with a sigh and almost jumped when Moody almost stabbed his forehead with the wand. After giving the man a glare, which Moody answered by narrowing his eyes, Harry looked at the others around him.

"Professor Lupin," he said carefully. "What is going on?"

"Shut it," Moody growled.

"You tell us, Harry," the werewolf answered with a tired sigh, sitting down beside him. "First the Ministry starts screaming about you doing under-age magic, and the next you vanish without a sign. We couldn't get a straight answer from the Dursleys, as your aunt and uncle merely kept screaming at us, and your cousin could barely get a straight word through...."

"Where are they?" Harry asked, frowning. Underage magic? _'Oh, damn. Summoning registers as magic?'_ he wondered with growing unease. Had they recorded him summoning the Arcanite magician? Or Mutou using the spell cards? Or the shadow travel? If they had pinned all that on him, like Dobby's levitation charm from the summer before his second year, then... then he was probably in trouble. And then some.

 _'Well, if they kick me out of Hogwarts, maybe the Duellist Court will take me in?'_ he thought rather hopefully. _'The King seems to like me, so.... maybe he'd help me. Summoning doesn't take a wand, so... even if they snap it, I can still do magic. Sort of. I wonder if I could learn to shadow travel. It seems a bit like apparition. Hmm... I wonder if summons can fly....'_ Giving up Quidditch would be probably the hardest blow.

"They are upstairs. Moody, uh... used a sleeping potion on them," Lupin grinned faintly, ignoring the growling of the retired Auror. "Thankfully, not before we got at least a part of the story out of Dudley."

Harry winced. This could be bad. "What.... what did he say?" he asked.

"How about you tell us what happened first and then we see if your story matches with your cousin's tale, Potter," Moody growled, eyes narrowed. He glanced at the others. "As far as I can tell, he hasn't drunk any potions for the last six weeks, and he isn't under any spell work. Still, be on your toes. It's impossible to detect Imperius if it's performed by a skilled dark wizard."

"Uh, I can shake Imperius," Harry said slowly. "And... why do you think I'm under one?"

"Why else would the Death Eaters snatch you and then send you back, except to use you to destroy us from inside?" Moody asked, jabbing his wand against Harry's chest. "Now, tell me Potter, what exactly happened and how is it that you're back here after being kidnapped?"

Harry blinked. They seriously thought he had been snatched by Death Eaters? "Exactly what did Dudley tell you?" he asked slowly. "It's gotta be a bit different from what actually happened if you think I was kidnapped. Seriously. If Death Eaters had got me, do you think I'd be, you know, still walking? If Voldemort had gotten me, the only way he would've sent me back would've been either in a body bag, or in tiny little pieces."

The people around him winced, except for Lupin, Moody and the bald dark skinned wizard. "I think that rules out someone pretending to be Harry," Lupin said with a crooked smirk before turning serious again. "Then, if you think Dudley got the wrong impression of what happened, then what did happen?"

"We got attacked by Dementors," Harry answered - which caused a rumble of gasps and grunts to ripple through the air. "Two of them, in the park," he said, making a haphazard motion towards where the incident had happened. "I, uh... I didn't have my wand, so I, uh..." he had no idea what to say next. For one, he doubted anyone would believe him. For two, he didn't know if he was allowed to. The King hadn't said anything to him about secrecy, but it was possible that there was a sort of secrecy clause involved with summoners as there was with wizards.

"You _didn't have your wand_?!" Moody roared incredulously. "The how did you do the summoning charm?!"

While Harry blinked with confusion - summoning charm? Was _that_ it? - Lupin leaned to look at him seriously. "Is that why you did the charm? You were trying to call for your wand?"

"I, uh..."

"Did you do a summoning charm _wandlessly?_ " Someone in the crowd asked. "That's a bit advanced for a wizard who's only been at Hogwarts for four years. But I guess nothing else could be expected from Harry Potter! Brilliant!"

"So, Dementors appeared, you tried to summon your wand so that you could defend yourself..." Moody frowned. "And then the Death Eater appeared?"

"What Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"Your cousin told us that everything got black and he felt cold - we assumed that it was some dark spell someone put him under but it makes sense that it was Dementors effect on him that he felt," Lupin said. "And then, according to him, a wizard appeared out of nowhere. A man with a wand, wearing a white robe."

 _'The Arcanite Magician,'_ Harry nodded with a frown. _'So, a normal muggle without a summoning ability, like_ _Dudley_ _, can see shadow monsters too...'_ he committed the information to memory and looked at the others. "And I suppose you explained the white robe as a sudden fashion-change among Voldemort's ranks?" he asked. Even he knew Death Eaters all wore black.

"Yeah, I wondered about that," the violet haired witch nodded cheerfully. "So, who was the white-robed guy?"

"He's, ah..."

"Well, the first one might've been a Death Eater who didn't get the chance to change his clothes before their raid. What about the other two, then?" Moody asked, leaning closer, magical eye spinning madly in its socked. "Your cousin tells that there was a man wearing black who came just after the white-robed man. And your uncle and aunt both saw the third man - a man in dark armour, they said."

Harry leaned back to get away from the man's breath, wondering what he had been drinking. "The third man who brought Dudley to the safety of his home?" he asked. "Instead of, you know, killing him on the spot like a Death Eater probably would've?"

"Then tell us Harry, if these three men weren't Death Eaters, who were they?" Lupin asked. "And why did they kidnap you?"

"No one kidnapped me," Harry answered. "I was weak after, uh... after the exposure to Dementors. You know how I react to them. He took me out to get something to eat." He could see that his story didn't hold water for anyone listening, and sighed. It didn't hold water for him because he was pretty sure that Mutou had indeed kidnapped him - the King had been rather pleasant about it, but he still had taken him against his will to have a burger in Japan. _'Weirdest kidnapping ever,'_ he thought.

"You vanished without a trace, Harry. Didn't you think it would cause panic?" Lupin asked slowly. "Don't you think you should've checked with someone first, or at least leave a message so that we wouldn't have worried?"

"Honestly, I didn't think anyone cared," Harry answered rather flatly, gleefully playing the card of _you didn't tell me anything, so_ _there_. "Besides, who was I supposed to tell? The Dursleys? After what happened with the Dementors and with Dudley a blubbering mess, they probably would've pinned it on me and kicked me out themselves. I thought I was saving them the trouble."

"What about the underage magic. Didn't you think you'd get at least a letter for that?"

"The summoning charm didn't work," Harry answered, warming up to the lie. "I didn't get the wand so I figured that it wouldn't matter."

"Well, it did. And you're going to a trial for it, too," Moody spat, and threw something to him. A letter from Ministry, informing that he was going to have to attend a disciplinary hearing about his underage magic. "More importantly, though. Who were those people who took you, as you say, to get something to eat."

"They were... friends," Harry answered. Arcanite Magician at least was... important, now. And he dearly hoped Mutou was a friend rather than an enemy. He frowned, glancing around. "I am allowed to have friends, aren't I? Or do I need to file an appeal to someone in order to get permission? Who are you people anyway? I know the Professors, of course, but the rest of you...."

The distraction worked and as the people around him launched into introductions, Moody didn't get the chance to question him again - for a whole of three minutes, before he barked "SHUT THE HELL UP, ALL OF YOU!" to get silence again. "That's enough, Potter. I've heard enough. You can take it up with Dumbledore next," the man said. "Go get your things, boy and get ready to leave."

"Oh," Harry muttered. _'Why didn't they just say Dumbledore sent them, that would've made a bit more sense,'_ he thought. "Where are we going? To the Burrow?"

"No, we've set up a headquarters somewhere un-detectable. The Burrow is too well known," Moody answered. "Now, go get your things already. Nymphadora, go with him."

"Don't call me that," the violet haired witch snarled before smiling at Harry. "Tonks will do. Come on, Harry. Let's get to work."

Under her watchful eye, Harry headed upstairs where he packed his trunk as quickly as he could. She tried to help at first, but seeing what she almost did to his telescope, he assured her that he could do it himself rather than risk breaking something valuable. "So, how are we going to get to this whatever-place we're going?" he asked while giving a worried look at the Magic and Wizards books he had borrowed from Mrs. Banks. He meant to return them, but now he couldn't - and if he left them they wouldn't be in one piece when he got back the next summer.

"Brooms," the witch answered cheerfully. "You're too young to Apparate and people might be watching the floo, so --"

"And not one of you knows how to Side-Along Apparate someone?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. After the night he’d had, he really didn't much feel like flying.

"Ministry might pick it up as you doing it," she answered. "We don't want to pile any more offences on your record right now."

"And the fact that I _can't Apparate_ and the fact that you probably could testify that it was sidelong... that doesn't count for anything?" he asked. "How far is this headquarters place, exactly?"

"Pretty far. Knowing Moody, he’ll want to avoid all places with muggles so it will take the whole night to get there."

Harry stared at her flatly. "So, just to make this clear, after I got attacked by Dementors, you lot want me to fly on a broom all night?" he asked, and in answer the bright violet of her hair faded a little. "Yeah, if it's all right with you, I'm going to call a cab instead. Either that, or someone will side-along Apparate me - or you lot can carry me all the way."

"Ah. Didn't think of that," the woman, Tonks, muttered. "Just a moment, I'm going to go and talk with my esteemed colleagues about this," she then said, heading towards the door. "Keep on packing, either way you're leaving tonight."

Harry stared after her and shook his head. _'What a day,'_ he thought while resuming packing, gently putting the Magic and Wizards guide books into the trunk. _'Though this might make it a bit difficult to get new cards - not to mention about the fact that I’ve still got no muggle money. Hmm.... Well, I'll think about it later.'_

After his trunk was packed, Harry glanced at Hedwig's cage. The owl was gone, which was just as well. If the wizards on the first floor decided that he needed to fly, it would be easier for her not to be around. Shaking his head, he grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow, checked that he had everything, that the cards were securely in his pocket, and then turned to leave his room. In the living room, the mood was solemn.

"Well, Potter, we've decided that we're going to Apparate to headquarters," Moody said. "Nymphadora will bring you Side-Along."

"Good," Harry nodded, relieved, though he was a bit worried about the violet haired witch. She didn't seem the most graceful magician he had ever seen. "Just as long as she doesn't splinch me."

"I'm better with magic than I am with walking, trust me," she grinned and stepped next to Harry, throwing a levitation charm on his trunk and Hedwig's cage. "Are we ready to go? Oh, and use that name one more time, _Moody_ , and I'll wring your neck."

"We have the all clear. Alright, Remus, Kingsley, Hestia and Diggle, you go first. Next, you, _Tonks,_ with the boy, with me and Doge at each side. The rest of will follow us shortly after," Moody said, rolling his eyes. "Any questions? Good. Let's go!"

There were four instant cracks as the first four Disapparated, leaving Harry's head echoing with noise. He didn't have the time to clear his head, before Moody was barking at Tonks - and then there was the most disturbing sensation of turning and being squeezed through a tight space. _'Nothing like shadow travel,'_ Harry thought blearily as he almost fell to the dark pavement, his stomach twisting uncomfortably inside him. Compared to Apparating, the King's way of travelling was almost pleasant.

"There we go, nice and quick with all limbs and members on board," Tonks said cheerfully as a few more cracks signalled the arrival of the rest of the people.

Harry decided not to answer, and looked around instead. They were standing on a small, dark square with rather grimy looking houses leaning towards them. They looked abandoned and unkempt, with broken windows and such. _'Doesn't look like too welcoming a place, this one,'_ he mused. It actually rather looked like a place where one could expect to find a Death Eater hideout. "Where are we?"

"In a moment, Harry," Remus answered while Moody rummaged through his pockets. The Ex-Auror took out what at first looked like a lighter, but which Harry realised was something else as the wizard used it to put out the street lamps.

"Deluminator. Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody said once they were standing in complete darkness. "Now, Potter, take a look at this and commit it to memory. Quickly," he said, handing Harry a piece of paper. It was hard to see it in the darkness, but Harry could make out an address in it.

 _'The Headquarters of the Order of the_ _Phoenix_ _?'_ he wondered. _'That's... rather like the_ _Duellist Court_ _. Order of the_ _Phoenix_ _,_ _Phoenix_ _Order._ _Duellist Court_ _, Court of the Duellist...'_ he almost snorted at the thought, before looking up. "So... what now?" he asked.

"Think of what you just memorised," Lupin advised while Moody plucked the parchment from Harry's fingers and set it on fire. Harry did as told, and as he did, a new house started to squeeze its way from between numbers eleven and thirteen, the number twelve emerging seemingly from nothingness window by window. Harry stared at the odd apparition with shock and shook his head. Magic would probably never cease to amaze him.

"Alright, inside. Quickly, quickly," Moody said.

Harry was more or less steered to the rough, worn porch, where Lupin tapped his wand against the door. "Go inside, Harry," the man said as the door opened. "But don't go too far and don't touch anything."

Harry did as directed and stepped into the dark room beyond the door. There he stood still, trying to see something and ignore the odd, damp, mouldy smell that hung in the air. As he waited the others came in as well, until Moody came in limping and closing the door behind him.

"Alright, let's shed some light..." the man said, and his wand tip lit into faint, bluish glow. "Now, the rest are probably asleep or in the dining room. Tonks, take Potter's trunk upstairs. I'll go and see if Dumbledore is around. Now --"

"Did you find - oh, _Harry_!" a soft, urgent whisper interrupted the man and looking up Harry saw another witch joining them. Mrs. Weasley hurried towards him, followed by an anxious looking Mr. Weasley - and on their heels, Ron and Hermione. "Oh, Harry dear! We were so worried! When we heard you'd been kidnapped - oh, we didn't know what to do! Let me have a look at you --"

Then the hall was filled with hushed whispers as she, Mr. Weasley, Ron and Hermione all wanted to know what had happened and whether he was alright and so forth. Harry couldn't get a word in edgewise and could only wonder why they were all whispering, before Moody interrupted the reunion. "That's enough! Molly, take this lot upstairs before you wake the bloody portraits! Arthur, is Dumbledore around?"

The balding tall wizard shook his head. "Still at the Ministry, but he should come here soon. Now come on, let's go elsewhere...."

Harry wasn't listening to them anymore, though. Sirius had joined them, looking even more tired and worn than the rest of them. He looked at Harry from top to toe before more or less wrestling him from Mrs. Weasley's hold, and into his own. Harry sighed with a mixture of relief and worry as the man squeezed the breath out of him. "Come on," the former prisoner said after the bone crushing hug. "Let's go to the dining room, you can tell us what happened."

Sometime later, Harry was sat down in the kitchen where, under the curious looks of over a dozen people, he retold the tale of the Dementors and the lie of Arcanite Magician, Yugi Mutou and the Dark Magician being his friends who had come to his aid. Hermione and Ron both looked mildly affronted about the idea of him having friends they knew nothing about while the Order tried to squeeze more information out of him. Harry lied, limping and sloppy but convincing enough, about meeting one of his new friends during the summer, and saying, "well, the two others aren't as much my friends as they are friends of my friend, but anyway," which convinced nobody, him the least.

"This friend of yours has a name, then?" Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes.

Harry hesitated before saying, "Arcanite. His name is Arcanite." He didn't dare to say anything about Yugi Mutou or the Duellist Court or the Dark Magician - even if he had known whether he was allowed to speak about the so called _Duellist Kingdom_ , he had a feeling the crowd around him would take it all pretty badly. Dark Magician after all translated to Dark Wizard pretty quickly - and a Duellist King when they already had a Dark Lord to worry about? No, they wouldn't take it too well.

"He the white robed guy, or one of the two others?" Moody asked suspiciously.

"Arcanite was the man in white robes," Harry answered, thankful that Dudley hadn't given a better description. If they knew that said white robes included a hood with _horns_ on it, they'd probably draw some uncomfortable conclusions. _'Thank god_ _Dudley_ _didn't notice the colour of Arcanite Magician's skin. Or hair.'_

"Alright, that's enough," Mrs. Weasley said. "Can't you see how tired the poor dear is? Let's let him at least sleep through the night properly before we continue this interrogation. Come along, Harry dear. I'll show where you're sleeping...."

Harry took the distraction eagerly, quickly following her out and leaving a crowd of people behind him. He could hear them noisily argue about whether or not he had been confunded or if someone had erased his memories, but ignored it. He was too tired and too confused to care.

"You're sleeping in the same room with Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, motioning at Ron whom Harry noticed was following them with Hermione. "We got a bed made ready for you, so you don't need to worry about that...."

She led him to a room on the second floor which had two beds. After putting his trunk at the foot of the bed, she gave him, Ron and Hermione a look before shaking her head and saying nothing about Hermione's presence there. "I know you three probably want to catch up, but don't stay up for long," she said, patting Harry's shoulder once before heading away.

The moment she was out, Hermione threw herself at him and Ron only barely managed to grasp Harry's shoulders to prevent them from falling over. "Oh, Harry! We were so worried! The order wouldn’t tell usanything, only that Mundungus mentioned something about a kidnapping. And --!" she babbled, squeezing him so hard that he couldn't breathe. Air thusly forced out of him, Harry let out a huff of discomfort, but oddly enough he didn't really mind.

"Yeah, Mate. And what's this about that Arawhatitwas bloke? That for real?" Ron asked, squeezing Harry's shoulders.

Harry would've thought that after a summer full of nothing but cold shoulders and enigmatic brushes off, he would've been mad at his friends. But after what had happened that day, and the encounter with the King... it had left him reeling with an odd detachment. He was a wizard and then he was suddenly also a duellist - and part of a society he hadn't known existed - and all of sudden he wasn't sure exactly _what_ he was. That had dried up all his emotional reserves oddly enough, and after the whole mess of the day, it was almost relieving to find that Ron and Hermione were still there to catch him in the end.

"I'll explain it all to you," he promised. "Once I've gotten some sleep." _'And once I know myself.'_


	5. King's and Crowns

Harry wished he could've had one of those story book moments of _he woke up, thinking the previous day had been nothing but a dream_. He might've even had them himself, in the past. But the following morning he woke up knowing exactly how little of what had happened had been a dream. Of course, being in a strange room with Ron snoring away next to him helped there, but he still would've preferred a moment of fake, blissful ignorance.

Before even attempting to get out from underneath the duvet, he already knew it was going to be a long day. If the night was anything to go by, he would most likely be interrogated. By Dumbledore if he was there, by the Order, by his friends, by the Weasleys, by Sirius... all of whom he would need to lie to more or less than he had the previous night.

 _'What was I thinking, saying that Arcanite was my friend?'_ He sighed. He hoped that the monster was - and the fact that he had been able to summon him indicated that the monster at least didn't loathe him... but Arcanite Magician wasn't even _human._ He couldn't exactly introduce his friends to the "man" and put their worries to rest - in all likelihood they'd just panic, more or less, if they saw the monster.

But he knew why. He had needed an excuse and he hadn't dared to call Yugi Mutou his friend. Assuming a friendship with someone so powerful... it was like calling Dumbledore his best pal after a single meeting. Or two meetings.

Shaking his head, Harry turned to look around and caught a glimpse of his trousers, hanging from the bedpost. Reaching, he pulled them closer before fishing the cards from the pocket. The crown card was there, between Arcanite Magician and Sonic Duck. Harry stared at it for a moment. The text had changed underneath it, saying "Working" with the words "The Castle" beneath it, and nothing else.

 _'So, it always tells what he is doing and where he is? That's kind of like the clock at the Burrow...'_ Harry mused. It was probably a handy way of keeping track of the Duellist Court if everyone in it really had a card like that. _'Also, when summoning a real person, it's probably better if you know where they are first. Would be pretty embarrassing if you summoned a person in middle of a bath or something... I wonder what the Castle is, though....'_

Then his attention was drawn elsewhere - to the Arcanite Magician. The image on it had changed. Previously the Magician had been reaching out his hand towards the viewer, but now the monster stood tall and proud, holding his heavy looking metal wand against his chest. Harry blinked at it and then smiled. _'I wonder, do all monster cards change once you've summoned the monster in real life?'_ he wondered while staring at the card and looking for differences. The stats in the card were the same and so was everything else. Only the picture had shifted. _'Hmm... It might be like a moving picture now, actually. That would be handy, if I could communicate with the Magician through the card....'_

He contemplated it for a moment before stacking the cards again and hiding them in his pocket. Then, giving the sleeping Ron a glance, he sat up from the bed, quickly pulling his clothes on and then heading out of the room. Beyond the door, the corridor was dark and gloomy, lined with doors at each side. Harry walked along the corridor, glancing left and right in hopes of finding a bathroom, until he found himself at the end of the corridor and in a living room of some sort - it had couches and a table, though none of them looked too steady where they stood, or too welcoming - except for one thing. Sirius was sitting on one of them.

"Harry!" the man said as he noticed him, standing up. "You're awake early, considering."

"It's early?" Harry asked while walking closer and sitting down beside his godfather on the moth-eaten couch. "I guess I'm still too shaken by last night to sleep properly."

"It's only a little before seven - which means that soon our lovely Mrs. Weasley will start waking people up," the long haired man shook his head. "She's already cooking downstairs." He added before giving Harry a look. "So, you wanna tell me what really happened yesterday? I heard the gist of it from Moody and, no offence meant, I've heard more convincing lies."

Harry gave the man beside him an uneasy look. "You think I've been addled by Death Eaters, then?" he asked.

Sirius barked a laugh. "Moody's a paranoid bastard, I know, but he knows his thing. He wouldn't have brought you here if he thought you were a security risk, or addled by Death Eaters," the man assured, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders and squeezing him compassionately. "Nah. You say there were no Death Eaters and I'll believe you. I know you wouldn't lie about that. But I think _something_ happened."

Harry hummed. He _wanted_ to tell Sirius, he really did. The problem was he didn't know whether the man would believe him or whether he'd keep it a secret. This Order of the Phoenix stuff... Sirius would probably have to tell everyone. "I'll get back to you on that," he finally said to give himself time to decide. "So, what is this place exactly? And what's with all the whispering?" he made a motion towards the corridor. "Last night everyone was walking on eggshells."

"We’ve got some nasty portraits here - one in particular who has a very piercing voice and a habit of screaming a lot," Sirius frowned, looking away. "This is my home. Or it was, once," he then said. "Owned by the Black family for generations. I, being the last Black, own it now. I suggested that the Order could use it as headquarters as it's been empty for years and there's space. Pretty much the only thing I've been able to do for the Order so far...."

Harry gave the man a look at the sound of his bitter tone. Sirius looked like he hadn't been sleeping - which wasn't all that odd, considering the hollowed appearance Azkaban had given him. Sirius _always_ looked like he hadn't been sleeping in a while - or eating - or breathing. The bitterness was a new thing, though. "How so?" the younger wizard asked.

"Have to stay inside, being a wanted criminal and all," Sirius sighed. "And Wormtail's probably told all his new buddies about my animagus form, so that's a useless disguise. So, Dumbledore feels that its best I stay inside. And I have. For a month."

Harry gave the man a frown. He didn't exactly disagree with the security - he wanted his godfather safe after all - but he knew what being locked up could do to you. And he only had experiences from the Dursleys to go by - Sirius had stayed in _Azkaban_ and Dumbledore had put him under _house arrest_? "Okay, this might be a totally stupid question, but how old are you?" he asked slowly.

"Closer to forty than I'd like to think?" the man answered with a faint grin.

"So, being closer to forty than you'd like, that'd make you an adult, right? So why exactly can Dumbledore tell you what to do?" Harry asked. "I mean, sure, he can lock me up and shun me and keep me ignorant about stuff that could, you know, kill me, but I'm a kid, so I can be pushed under the rug when I'm not needed. You're an adult though. Shouldn’t you have the power to decide for yourself?"

Sirius gave him a rather startled look, though Harry got the feeling it wasn't because of the suggestion. Then the man narrowed his eyes. "Exactly what happened to you this summer?" he asked curiously. "Because that's a bit too jaded for the Harry I know.

"Not jaded. Just... realistic," Harry answered, leaning back and frowning at the ceiling. He wasn't sure exactly when he had gotten that opinion about the state of his affairs, but it was oddly... comforting to accept it all of sudden. Or not accept, because he didn't really think that Dumbledore or anyone had that right anymore, but to understand. He understood how things were, and even if he wanted to change them, he also understood that he couldn't just now.

He hesitated and then spoke. "I guess I found out that the world doesn't revolve around Dumbledore and Voldemort, is all." He glanced at the man. "Or the Ministry."

Sirius looked at him confusedly. "You... found out about the fact that the muggles have a ten thousand to one advantage on us?" he asked slowly. "I know it's a shock, Harry, and it has broken many great wizards, but you need to think positively now…."

Harry snorted. "No, I'm afraid I already knew about that," he answered solemnly. Then he frowned. "I, uh... I don't know how much I can really tell about it, but... the friends I mentioned to Moody? And Arcanite too, uh.... They aren't wizards."

"You are telling me that the Dementors got chased away by bunch of muggles?" Sirius asked disbelievingly.

"I didn't say they were muggles," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Vampires then?"

"It actually would be easier if they were."

"What then? Goblin? Veela? If they were Veela, I _really_ want you to tell me. Hm? Not Veela?" Sirius frowned as Harry shook his head. "Pity. Let's see then. Werewolves? Mermaids? Wait, no way, no water there. Um.... Ah, I know, you got rescued by centaurs! Oh, I would've loved to see that."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, the most neutral creatures in the magical world, rushing to rescue me in Little Whinging. I'd like to see that too," he said.

"What were they, then?" Sirius asked, serious once more.

"I don't know if I can tell you," Harry sighed, eyeing the half torn carpet. "I really wish I could but... I don't know if I'm allowed - and don't give me that _who's gonna know_ look, I really don't want to anger these guys. Besides, you would probably tell the Order too, which is kind of... not good." He frowned, and then sighed as he noticed the worried look Sirius was giving him. "I've not fallen in with a bad crowd. Honestly."

"I'm glad you think so, my fledgling summoner," a familiar voice behind him, and Harry almost wrung his neck while turning to face the man, who was casually leaning against the backrest of the couch, looking as if it was perfectly normal he was there. Sirius's reaction was a bit more violent than Harry's, as he stood up and pointed his wand at Mutou, who faced it with an amused blink of his eyes. "This would be a modern wand then?" he asked, looking at the wand curiously. The shadow beside him even reached out to touch the wand. "They've gotten smaller too. How handy."

"Who the hell are you?!" Sirius demanded to know. He didn't seem to notice the shadow that was now poking the wand's tip with a translucent finger. "How did you get here?"

"Ah, Sirius? Sirius, please, put that thing down," Harry said, taking hold of the other's wrist and looking at the King of the Duellist Court. Mutou looked amused and it was probably better to keep him that way rather than the opposite. And if Sirius fired a spell now, it would hit the spirit and he doubted that would make Mutou happy. "Sirius, please," he said imploringly.

"You know this man, Harry?" Sirius asked, frowning and when his eyes flickered at him, Harry snatched the wand from his fingers before his godfather could do something the whole Order would regret.

 _'I don't know whether I should be relieved or not about the fact that Sirius can't see the shadow,'_ he thought. He decided to be relieved. Who knew what Sirius would've done if he had seen the shadow with its mildly creepy red eyes and all. Red eyes, after all, were usually not a good sign. "Yes, he's the one who saved me yesterday," the younger wizard said while holding the wand safely away from Sirius's reach. Then he turned to look at Mutou who had small smile on his lips. "How _did_ you get here?" he asked, frowning. "And why are you here?"

"You changed locations overnight. I got worried that this Dark Lord of yours had kidnapped you the moment I turned my eyes away," the man answered calmly. "I felt it was something of my duty to make sure you were in one piece where ever you were, considering what happened to those Dementors of his - didn't want him to blame you for it." He frowned. "Took me rather long to find this place, though. Interesting protections, they kept insisting to me that this house doesn't exist in the normal world. Very interesting, that."

"Wait, this is the Arcanite guy?" Sirius asked, looking between Harry who was feeling like he ought to bang his head against something - or maybe he ought to do that to Sirius's head - and Mutou who was smiling again. "You don't look like much. How did you get through the Fidelius charm? It's supposed to be impenetrable. Not to mention the fact that this place is Unplottable."

"Nothing is really impenetrable, time and patience can wear anything to the ground. And looks can be deceiving, and no, I am not Arcanite Magician," Mutou answered chuckling and looked at Harry. "I see you're not in danger."

"Only of a mental breakdown," Harry sighed, sitting back down on the couch. Here he had been thinking that the Duellist Court was a huge secret and that his very life might be danger if he spilled it - and then the King of the said Court comes waltzing in like it was nothing at all. "How did you find me?"

"The card. I can always check where the crown cards are as they are linked to me - and when yours vanished off the face of the Earth, I got worried. And curious," Mutou shrugged and grinned. "Some really interesting stuff seems to happen around you, my fledgling summoner. Now, are you going to introduce tall, dark and glaring?" he asked, nodding at Sirius's direction.

Harry opened his mouth, but Sirius beat him to it. "Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and the owner of the house you're trespassing in. And you are?" the ex-convict asked demandingly.

"Me? Oh, I'm nobody. Just one Yugi Mutou," the King answered looking around curiously. "This is your home? It is very... homely," he offered graciously.

"Wait, wait, you can track me through the card?" Harry asked, cutting in before Sirius could speak again. "You failed to mention that yesterday."

"Well, yes, in a certain way. I can track the card so, in conjunction, if you have the card I can track you... but I thought you'd figure it out sooner or later. How else would I keep the people who have the cards apart?" Mutou shrugged. He chuckled at the glare Harry gave him. "Come now, fledgling. You already knew I was stalking you. This shouldn't be such a surprise."

"Stalking?" Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes at Mutou who merely grinned at him cheerfully. Then the ex-convict turned to Harry. "Harry, who the hell is this guy?"

"I, uh..." Harry stopped before he could tell the truth or the story - truth being he had no idea, story being that the man was the king of a court of summoners. He started again. "Well, he saved me last night from the Dementors, so... not an enemy?"

"That's not really convincing," Sirius said, giving a look at the wand Harry was holding. "Beside, this place is supposed to be secure. And, you know... secret."

"Oh, your secret is safe," Mutou assured with an innocent smile that didn't reassure Harry at all. "Well then, now that I know you're alright and not being tortured to death, I think I shall take my leave. I have some studying to do," he said, stretching his hands. "Take care, my fledgling summoner."

"Wait, you can't just --!" Sirius started but stopped as shadows burst from the floor and enveloped the King of the Duellist Court and his shadow, who vanished waving cheerfully at then. Sirius stared behind the couch for a moment while Harry swallowed a nervous laugh. "What the bloody hell was that?" the former prisoner then asked, turning to Harry. "Harry? Some explanations please?"

"I... don't really know myself," Harry sighed with defeat, glancing at the sport where Mutou had been standing. "I guess I am... allowed to tell people if he treats the whole thing so whimsically, but I don't really know how I can explain this without sounding like a complete nutcase. And, uh..." he frowned. "And I kind of don't want people to know."

Sirius obviously understood what he meant because his next question was, "Are you going to tell Ron and Hermione, then?"

Harry nodded, slowly. "If they'll believe me, yeah. I could use Hermione's help if nothing else. But, I..."

The elder wizard ran his hand through his hair, and then sat down beside him. "Tell me," he said. "Do you think this puts your life in danger?"

Harry frowned and then shook his head, turning to face the man. "I think this might actually give me an edge, a fighting chance," he said softly. "I learned some stuff this summer that I know for a fact that Voldemort will never understand or willingly use. But it's _powerful_." He stopped, hesitating for a moment, before speaking again. "Those Dementors... I never said what happened to them."

"I figured they ran away once your... friends got there," Sirius said.

Harry shook his head. "They were obliterated," he answered. He hadn't really thought about it - hadn't gotten the chance to - but when he did... that was creepy as hell. In two blasts of light, the Arcanite Magician had completely destroyed two _Dementors_. He shook his head and took a deep breath, intending to start from the beginning, from when he had eavesdropped... when a screech echoed through the room. Harry started. It was like some sort of siren, bellowing out through the air, making it seem full. Except the noise was clearly being made by a human voice. "What the hell is that?!"

"That's my mum. Come on," Sirius said grimly, already heading for the door. "And give me that damn wand, would you?"

Harry jogged after him and handed him the wand as they headed towards the source of the horrible noise. As they rushed downstairs, the screeching resolver into words. "Filth! Scum!" it screamed, high enough to make the windows rattle. "Half-breeds! Mutants! _Filth_! Be gone, be gone from the noble house of Black, you have no right --!"

They came to the downstairs and headed for the entrance hall where Lupin was trying to pull curtains over what at first looked like a window, but turned out to be a painting, a portrait of a woman. "You wretched scum, products of vileness and dirt!" the woman in the portrait screamed, eyes rolling and drooling with rage. She looked utterly, horribly demented. "Be gone! BE GONE!"

"Shut up, you old hag!" Sirius bellowed back and as Harry looked on in befuddlement, he and Lupin tried to wrestle the curtains over the portrait.

"YOU! YOU!" the woman screeched. "The shame of my flesh, the stain of my bloodline, the disgrace of my family! You horrible boy --"

"Shut UP!" Sirius answered and Harry took notice that there were other portraits around - who unlike this one, were silent. It wasn't due to not trying to, most of the men and women in the portraits were opening and closing their mouths wildly as if speaking or screaming, but no sound came out. Someone had apparently silenced them.

"You despicable boy, I wish I had drown --" the screaming painting started and stopped as Sirius finally managed to pull the curtain shut, heaving with the strain.

The silence that followed was so abrupt it was almost shocking. Shaking his head to clear it, Harry glanced around to see that Mrs. Weasley was hovering near by with a wand in hand, and that other people had come into the hall as well - Mr. Weasley was there along with Bill. A bleary eyed Ginny was just coming down the stairs and not far behind her was Hermione and Ron who first looked worried and then relaxed when they saw Harry. Before Harry could greet them, though, twin cracks echoed in the hall as two red haired wizards Apparated in middle of it.

"Oh for heaven's sake! Fred, George, stop _doing that._ " Mrs. Weasley snapped at the widely grinning George and Fred.

"Harry, mate! They found you, I see!" George ignored his mother as he greeted Harry, stepping to his side.

"We were getting worried, we were. Thought you were going to take on the Death Eaters all by yourself." Fred said, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Were you tortured?" George asked, looking Harry up and down. "You don't look tortured."

"Boys! You can't ask things like that! That's _horrible_!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "What if he had been captured by the Death Eaters? You'd be making him feel terrible with questions like that."

"It's so much fun when people think we're stupid enough to actually think that we'd miss a thing like that. I mean, if you had been captured and tortured, I imagine you wouldn't be here listening to Mrs. Black’s lovely dulcet tones. Or smiling. Or walking. No, you'd be in St. Mungos right about now. Either for treatment or embalming," Fred said under his breath.

"That's morbid," Harry said rather flatly, but for some reason it made him feel a little better.

"Hello Harry. I see you're still alive," Ginny commented with an amused smile while Mrs. Weasley cried a dismayed " _Ginny_!" at her.

"Yeah, I'm working on that," Harry nodded. "You think it's a good look on me?"

"Seems to be working out for you so far," she laughed.

"Alright, that's enough. I will not have you talking of a serious situation in such a morbid manner. Ginny, come along with me, you're going to help me with breakfast. You too, Fred and George! Come on."

"Of course," Fred rolled his eyes and patted Harry's shoulder. "We shall catch up with you later, Harry-old-boy."

Harry glanced after them and the yawning Ginny who followed Mrs. Weasley out of the hall. Then he turned to look at Sirius and Lupin. "So... that..?" he asked, motioning at the curtains hiding the portrait.

"My lovely old mum," Sirius answered without much humour. "Isn't she all heart?"

"Yeah, lovely," Ron muttered as he and Hermione moved to join Harry's side. "Morning, mate."

"Yeah," Harry nodded at him and Hermione.

"Well then, now that that's over… Harry," Sirius said, leaving the curtains which Lupin was trying to tie together somehow. The ex-prisoner was frowning. "We have a conversation to finish."

"Ah, yeah," Harry nodded. It was probably best he explain the whole thing now before Sirius would draw conclusions and then tell the Order of Phoenix. "I'll catch you guys in a moment," he said to Hermione and Ron.

"Wait, are you going to talk about what happened yesterday? With the Dementors?" Hermione asked.

"We want to know too," Ron nodded.

"Yes, well, I wanted to know a lot of things too this summer. I guess you’ll just have to do as I had to, and wait," Harry said and followed Sirius back up the stairs, leaving behind his two frowning best friends.

"Didn't you say you were going to tell them too?" Sirius asked as they walked up the stairs. "That was pretty cold, you know."

"I haven't completely forgiven them for not telling me anything about what's been going on. Well, you didn't tell me anything either but at least you weren't annoying about it," Harry muttered. "A few hours of not knowing won't kill them."

"It's not their fault they didn't tell you anything. Dumbledore told all of us not to."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I've been wondering about that. He's bossing Hermione and Ron around, he has you locked up... I guess the Order of the Phoenix is more or less his doing too, right?" he asked and Sirius nodded. "Okay. I think I kind of missed the coronation ceremony, so tell me... when exactly did Dumbledore become our king?" he asked. He hadn't even seen the man since leaving Hogwarts that spring, but the man was really starting to annoy him.

"When did that Mutou bloke become yours?" Sirius asked back, frowning as they came to the living room.

"When I became part of his kingdom," Harry answered and got a startled look in answer. Harry shrugged a little awkwardly and pulled the door shut. They sat down and Harry took a deep breath, knowing this was his cue to start explaining. "I think it was a couple of weeks ago when I met Mutou the first time - he came to Privet Drive to meet a muggle woman living there, Mrs. Banks --"

"The same Banks you've been hanging out with?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows.

"How do you know about that?"

"The order members who've been watching over you saw you with her pretty often - and going into her house," the man answered, frowning. "We were wondering why the sudden friendship in a few Order meetings. I suggested you had a thing for older women once - Molly screamed me almost out of the room."

"Eugh. What is it with people and thinking I'm with older --- wait, you've been stalking me too?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Guarding you, _guarding_. We weren't about to leave you without anyone to watch your back. The blood protections around Privet Drive are pretty good, but they're not perfect, so, just in case..."

"Just in case a Dementor or two happen to come by? I didn't see any Order members protecting me then," Harry answered edgily before taking a deep breath. "Never mind - and yes, the same Mrs. Banks I've been, uh, hanging out with. Anyway. I saw something weird about Mutou that made me think he might be a wizard and so I, uh... I stalked him. And eavesdropped on his and Mrs. Banks’ conversation."

Sirius eyed him with surprise and then laughed. "Sounds like something James would've done,"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I got caught. Mutou saw me. Instead of yelling or kicking me out or anything like that, he invited me in and, uh... I saw something I didn't think was possible..." he trailed away, not knowing how to explain it. Then, after a moment of thought, he took his cards out from his pocket and looked at them. "With a card like this, he did magic," he said, handing the top card - the Magicat - to Sirius, who looked at it with confusion. "It's a muggle card game. You collect the cards and make a deck from them - and then play a strategic battle game with them."

"So... the card was charmed?" Sirius asked, eyeing the card curiously.

"No, the game itself was special. Mutou's not a wizard - he is... sort of a muggle, kind of. So is Mrs. Banks, she can do the card magic too. They call it duelling. Or summoning," Harry said. "Anyway, I saw him summon a creature from a card. He didn't explain it, only told me to find out for myself. And I did. Mrs. Banks explained it all to me, about the game and the magic you can do with it...."

"Wait, wait, go back to the part where that man, who tracked down an Unplottable house and broke through the Fidelius, is a _muggle_ ," Sirius said. "I saw him Disapparate. _You_ saw him Dissapparate."

"It wasn't Apparation. He calls it shadow travel. When he took me out for a burger, he used that sort of travel. It felt like falling. And when Tonks Apparated me, it felt like someone was squeezing me through a tube, so they're different things," Harry shuddered. "Anyway, he's not a wizard at least. He didn't even know there were wizards before yesterday when I told him. But, I guess... he's not really a muggle either. He's something else. So are the rest of the summoners, like Mrs. Banks." He thought about it for a moment. "They could be squibs maybe. Who knows." He frowned. "Probably not," he finally said. It was hard to connect the King of the Duellist Court with the word _squib_.

"Okay... not a Muggle and not a wizard. Right. So, the game?" Sirius asked, looking at the card again.

"Yeah, uh. Some people can summon the creatures in the cards. Mutou can do it, and Mrs. Banks can do it. I dunno why, but Mutou thought I had the potential to, which is why Mrs. Banks tried to teach me. And that, I guess, wasn't far from truth either," Harry said, and took out the Arcanite Magician's card from the deck. "This is the white robed man Dudley saw. The Arcanite Magician. _I_ summoned him."

Sirius frowned, taking the card and looking at it. "So, it's like a reverse Portkey?" he asked.

"That's what I thought too. And maybe that's it in a way right, but… no. The summons can decide whether or not they want to be summoned. If Arcanite Magician had decided against it, I would've never been able to call him," Harry said.

"Alright..." Sirius trailed away, giving him a slightly dubious look. "What exactly happened yesterday?" he asked.

Harry sighed and told everything from the moment he met Dudley in the park to the point when Mutou returned him to Privet Drive. Sirius listened quietly, only asking a few question and looking a little incredulous at the mention of Japan. "What about the summoning charm?" the elder wizard eventually asked.

"I guess summoning a monster looks like a summoning charm to the Ministry," Harry answered with a shrug. "Because I didn't try to use spells yesterday."

"Okay..." Sirius muttered and leaning back, staring at the cards before handing them back to Harry. "I think I need to see it before I really believe it, but this is a bit too elaborate to be a joke and too confusing to be a lie. So, how many are there? Summoners I mean, how many are there?"

"Mrs. Banks said that there are about fifty in Britain, but there are more elsewhere," Harry answered.

"Okay, and they're just... they live like muggles and that's it? They just use these monster summoning powers to play games with each other?"

"Um... more or less, I guess," Harry answered. "I guess they're so scattered around that there's no point trying to make a society, and they all were muggles before they became summoners..." he shrugged. "I don't really know; Mrs. Banks and Mutou are the only summoners I've ever met."

"Uhhuh. And this Mutou bloke... he's some sort of leader?" Sirius asked thoughtfully.

"He is the King of the Duellist Court," Harry said, and faced the alarm in his godfather's eyes with a shrug of his shoulders. "Apparently the title of King came from some tournament or whatever. But Mutou's the best player and strongest duellist around, so it stuck. And the Court sort of grew around him. They're pretty much the only governing body summoners have - and the only ones who can help with problems summoners might get with their art. So if someone has problems with summoning, like Mrs. Banks, the Court will send someone to help. And if someone goes bad and uses summoning against normal muggles... well, the Court deals with them."

" _Deals with them_?" Sirius asked, looking alarmed.

"Yeah, pretty much," Harry nodded with a grimace.

"And now that you've summoned...."

"Now that I've summoned, I'm more or less part of the DuellistKingdom too," Harry nodded. "And the King of it has a personal interest on me, so..." he shrugged awkwardly.

Sirius eyed him in silence for a moment. "I can see now why you want to keep this quiet," he finally said, frowning. "But you know, you can't keep a thing like this secret for long. Not if Mutou's gonna keep popping in and out as he pleases like that. You really sure that he's not a bad guy?"

"He saved my life, so no, I don't think he's a bad guy," Harry laughed before frowning. "But you know... how do you think people would react? How would Dumbledore react, knowing I'm part of a whole different magical nation now? With the stuff that's been going on around me lately, I think he'd lock me up or tell me never to touch the cards again or something. Or he'd try to learn it himself. Or something. And what if the Order would do something to make the Duellist Court angry? And more than that, I don't want Voldemort to find out. The more people know about this, the bigger the risk of word spreading," he said, and looked at his godfather imploringly. "Sirius, Voldemort wants to kill me. I need to have an ace up my sleeve and this is it - but it's only it if he, or anyone else who might come after me, doesn't know about it."

"Well _that_ I understand," Sirius nodded and sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Especially when Voldemort is doing the same thing."

"What?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this - most of the Order thinks you're too young, but..." Sirius frowned. "Considering everything, I think you ought to know. The Order's been trying to slow Voldemort down, you know, stop him from gathering followers and so forth. We've found out that he is trying to find something he didn't have the last time around, something that would give him an edge now. A weapon or useful piece of information...."

Harry leaned closer as the man quickly summarised what had been happening lately, his tongue probably loosened by Harry's tale about the Court. Though before that summer, Harry would've been jumping up at every turn of the short summary and demanding more information, this time he only nodded in understanding. That's why everything was so quiet. Voldemort was trying to be quiet about himself, and keep himself secret so that he could regain his power - and something more.

"What do you mean by piece of information?" Harry asked. "Just some spell or something?"

"No, something more important," Sirius frowned, giving him a look. Then he glanced around to make sure that there was no one around. "I'm definitely not supposed to tell you this, and Dumbledore might skin me for it, but... to hell with it. I missed the crowning ceremony too," he muttered and grinned darkly. "Do you know what a Prophecy is?"


	6. Loyalties

In the end Harry wasn't sure what to think about the Prophecy. Sirius hadn't remembered it word for word, but he had the gist of it, having heard it from James years and years ago. Dumbledore apparently didn't know he knew, and he wasn't supposed to know as most of the Order was only aware that there _was_ a Prophecy but were kept strictly unaware of its contents. It probably had something to do with the fact that in the first war, the Order had leaked information like a sieve. So, Sirius had kept his knowledge a secret up until the point that he had told Harry.

The first hearing had made Harry snort with laughter, especially when Sirius explained about the protection detail at the Department of Mysteries, carefully safeguarding the Prophecy globe. "So, just to get this straight, the thing says nothing everyone doesn't know and you're guarding it it's like it's the secret to immortal life? No, wait, don't answer that, I know how Dumbledore would guard the secret to immortal life."

Maybe being a wiseass about it wasn't the smartest thing to do, because then he had to explain about the Philosopher's stone. Still, the gist of the Prophecy, to him, sounded a bit silly. It only told when he was born, that he had the scar, and that he could or could not defeat Voldemort with power he knew not. All that _everyone_ knew because it had already happened, hadn't it? Or was there some sort of time limit in the Prophecy, Saviour coming soon in approximately seventeen years, we need to wait until he’s of age?

Wizards had to be a little demented if they were willing to wait for that long to end a bloody war. But, since magic and common sense seemed to be mutually exclusive, Harry didn't mind that as much as he minded the idea of the Order protecting the Prophecy. He couldn't see the point; if Voldemort couldn't just _guess_ what was in the damn thing, then his so called evil genius was utterly over-rated.

"What about the power he knows not?" Sirius asked.

"Um, surviving the killing curse? That's a power everyone knows not," Harry rolled his eyes. "And it did defeat him."

"And the neither can live while other survives?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway? Neither can live," the younger wizard shrugged. "Live how, survive how? Sounds like mystical mumbo jumbo to me. Give it a rest, I'm not gonna believe in this thing. It's stupid. And anyone who does believe in it is too."

"I guess that might be Dumbledore's game. Maybe he's making the Prophecy seem more important than it is with the whole protection detail thing in order to make Voldemort concentrate more effort on it and thus less effort on anything else, say, killing people and gathering armies?" Sirius suggested. "And of course he can't say that to us because we might have a leak?"

"Which basically means that he doesn't trust the Order any more than he trusts his enemies and fools them both about the same," Harry answered with a crooked smile. "What a lovely thought. I guess he sent the majority of the Order after me for the same reasons when you thought I was kidnapped?" he raised his eyebrows and then glanced at the doorway. Outside he could hear Mrs. Weasley, calling people to breakfast.

"You were kidnapped," Sirius interjected, but the frown on his face told him that now that the idea was in the open, it was impossible to ignore.

"Semantics," Harry shrugged and sat up, stretching his arms. "Methinks our good Lord Dumbledore has double standards," he added while brushing his hand over the bum of his pants in order to get the dust of the moth-eaten couch off them.

Though, for all his talk, he wasn't really angry at Dumbledore for whatever games he was or wasn't playing. He was mildly annoyed, yes, and maybe more than slightly affronted, but he wasn't actually angry. For one, it wouldn't have helped anything to be angry and for two... well, it was all rather curious, the whole thing. The Order of the Phoenix, Grimmauld Place, the Prophecy, everything. It seemed like a weird demented play or circus, and Harry didn't feel as much a part of the whole plotline as he felt like a spectator invited to the stage.

Breakfast too was a spectacle in a way; that of controlled chaos and a lot of talking. Harry was introduced to a few members of the order. Mundungus Flecher who by the looks of his slump was feeling the sting of making a huge mistake - he had been on watch duty when the Dementors had attacked. Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror, said hello and goodbye in hasty order before grabbing a sandwich and hurrying off, late for work. Tonks stumbled after him with a grin after waving at Harry cheerfully. Hestia Jones offered her introduction as well, but most of it was covered by the verbal explosion of Mrs. Weasley whose wand had turned into a chicken - which was then used to whack Fred and George on top of their heads.

Dumbledore, apparently, had come and gone during the night. From Mr. Weasley Harry heard that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had settled things the previous night at the Ministry, whatever that meant, and had had to hurry off to attend to other duties. Before the balding red haired man had to rush off as well, he assured him that things would work out and that Harry had little to worry about the trial.

After the food was gone and Mrs. Weasley headed off to attend to the dishes, Harry was cornered by his friends. By this time, Hermione had looked like she was about to burst and Ron had an unusually grim look about him.

Hermione was the one who got to the first word. "Harry, I'm so sorry!" she started, wringing her hands. "I know you're mad with me and Ron because we didn't tell you anything about what's been happening, but we couldn't! Dumbledore said that the letters might be intercepted and it would be better not to worry you - and anyway, not much has really been happening or if it has been we don't know anything about it because the Order won't tell us anything, and --"

" --we did try to convince Dumbledore because we knew you wouldn't like it, being kept out of the loop - we even talked about other stuff, you know, sending messages, but he didn't want you to know anything," Ron spoke over her, and then noticed how Harry's expression darkened and hurriedly continued. "Don't look at me like that, I didn't agree with him - I thought he was being a right git, not letting you know anything! Hell, I even tried to send you some stuff, but mum caught me at it --"

"-- honestly, we only know a little bit more about what's been happening than you do, and most of it doesn't make much sense - Tonks had been trying to keep us in the know, and Sirius, but they can't tell us much either. I was so worried you'd do something rash because you didn't know anything --"

"-- she was even reading our letters before we sent them to you to make sure we said nothing. She almost didn't let us mail anything at - for all the good that did, mate," Ron snorted, giving an unhappy sideways glance towards the kitchen. "If we'd been able to tell you something, maybe this wouldn't have happened, and --"

"-- and there's those horrible things they say about you in the Prophet, I was so worried that you'd take them seriously," Hermione continued, motioning at a pile of papers sitting on a drawer nearby. "But you should know that no one who really knows you would ever take any of it seriously, because we know you're not like that at all --"

Harry listened to them silently until they spoke themselves breathless, folding his arms half way through and leaning against a cabinet towards the end. Then he watched how Ron wheezed for a breath and Hermione coughed awkwardly, both looking at him as if waiting for him to explode. He smiled grimly. "You done?" he asked. He had a thing or two to say and he didn't want any excess guilt stopping his friends from taking what he said seriously.

"Um, yeah," Ron said while Hermione nodded feebly. There was a moment of silence before the redhead frowned. "Say something, mate."

"This Order thing, you're not part of it, right?" Harry asked.

"Uh, no, they say we're too young - even Fred and George aren't in it," Ron grumbled, looking annoyed.

"And this is the summer holidays, right?" Harry continued, tilting his head to the side. "We're not in school, right?"

"No, we aren't," Hermione answered, giving him a worried look. "Harry, what --?"

"Okay, so. You're not in the Order and you're not, currently, in school," Harry said. "So why exactly are you following Dumbledore's orders? Ron I can understand, having Mrs. Weasley for a mum, but you, Hermione..." he raised his eyebrows. "Why? And don't tell me it's because he's the Headmaster and that it's because it's his Order. Not in school and not in the Order, remember?"

Hermione opened her mouth, looking shocked. Then she closed it again, frowned, and opened it again. "Harry! What are you saying?" she asked. "It's Dumbledore!"

Harry didn't say anything to that, and while Hermione continued to look at him like he had lost his mind, Ron looked between her and Harry. "Um... I do because mum will have my hide if I don't, but you know that," the redhead said. "Just... are you mad with us or not, mate?"

"Mad, no. Annoyed, ticked off, irritated and rather disappointed, but not mad," Harry shrugged and gave Hermione a level look. "I love you guys, I really do and probably always will. But I can't trust you as far as I can throw you without a wand."

With that said, and seeing that neither could come up with anything else to say in return, he shook his head and turned away. He wanted to tell them about Magic and Wizards and the Duellist Court, he wanted to hear their opinions about it, wanted to have Ron's help coming up with strategies, and Hermione's help in getting the cards. But before they figured exactly where their loyalties lie, he wouldn't.

' _Which raises a problem,'_ he mused with a sigh while making his way back upstairs in order to get a moment of peace. ' _How the hell do I get more cards?'_

Either by fate, a stroke of luck or the most convenient coincidence ever, his eyes fell on the retreating backs of Fred and George - now full adult wizards who could do magic when they wished, Apparate where ever they wanted - and come and go as they chose. "Hey, guys," Harry called after them, jogging to their side. "You two still in need of some funding for the joke shop?"

"Always, Harry old boy," Fred answered. "Our noble cause could always use some financing!"

"There is always some free space in our brand new vault," George agreed. "Why, you thinking of contributing to the cause?"

"Not that the thousand galleons wasn't appreciated - it gave us a nice big head start," Fred hurriedly assured. "But it's only a start."

"Yeah, I bet starting a business takes more than that," Harry agreed, and fitted himself between them, throwing his arms casually around their shoulders. He grinned. "And I think I can contribute, make a donation, maybe... if you're willing to do a small little chore for me."

"A chore?" George asked, and the twins shared a look made one part suspicion, two parts interest. "And what would this chore entail?"

"Oh, it's simple. You just take my money, change it to muggle cash at Gringotts, visit a muggle shop or two and buy me some stuff," Harry answered with a cheery smile. "It's easy, really."

"What's the catch?" Fred asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Keeping it to yourself," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't want anyone knowing. Not Hermione or Ron, not Ginny, not your mum, not the Order, and definitely not Dumbledore."

"Hmm.... Well, I have to say I’m intrigued by this plot, old boy," George mused.

"Yes, I too am absolutely enthralled by your smashing scheme," Fred agreed. "There's just one thing."

"How much are you going to pay us?" they asked together.

Later that day, a cardboard box full of Magic and Wizards card packets was poured down into his trunk.

 

* * *

During the next few days, Harry found out about a few things. For one, not reading his Prophets thoroughly he had missed some thinly veiled insults to his person by the Ministry. Hermione and Ron, when they cautiously pointed them out to him, expected him to explode at of the mention them, but Harry was more amused than anything else. Some of the jokes done on him were almost good, some of the insults were pretty witty. A few months back, he would've been almost mortally insulted, but now... now he barely cared.

"You've changed, mate," Ron muttered under his breath, and Harry didn't know exactly how he meant it, but it was more or less true. Hermione seemed to think it was because of what had happened at the graveyard and what had happened to Cedric, but Sirius alone knew the reason.

"You have another option now, so you don't need to take this crap seriously anymore," the man shrugged while examining some of Harry's new cards. "Your comfort no longer depends on the magical world."

That might've been it, but Harry had a feeling that there was more to it. It wasn't just that he had another option - because really, he had had another option before too. He could've left the magical world for the muggle world at any point he chose, and in the end his invite to the DuellistKingdom wasn't yet set in stone. He had only summoned once, after all. And on top of that, the DuellistKingdom didn't seem like it actually looked after its citizens, so it probably wouldn't have ensured Harry's comfort if he had chosen to leave the magical world.

The other thing that made his friends think he had changed was his complete disinterest in the Order of the Phoenix. While the twins, Ron, Hermione and Ginny did their best to try and eavesdrop on meetings, Harry sat by his trunk and shuffled through his cards - which he had by the hundreds now - and leafed through his manuals. He had a deck to make, after all and that was more important to him right then, than whatever Snape had to report to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore who, by the looks of it, was doing his very best to ignore Harry's very existence. Harry really wouldn't have minded that, if he hadn't sent his vassals after him instead. At odd moments of the day, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Kingsley or Moody tried to sneak in a question or two about Harry's _friends,_ about Arcanite, and so forth. Harry answered with lies to the first few questions but by the third day he just shrugged his shoulders, murmured a noncommittal reply and found a reason to be excused.

Which, sadly, wasn't that hard. Mrs. Weasley made sure that they had plenty to do. Like cleaning. Lots and lots of cleaning. Grimmauld place had been empty for almost a decade after Sirius's mum died, and it had the dust, cobwebs and doxies to prove it. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have made it her life's duty to force people to clean it up. People being mostly the ones who weren't in the Order. It was probably her way of trying to distract the innocent little children from the dangers of war and the Order and knowing stuff. Most grumbled about it, but it gave them some interesting opportunities. Like Fred and George who decided to use Doxy venom in candies that made you ill. For Harry and Sirius it gave a perfect excuse to sneak away to talk about the Court and the cards.

"So, are you going to forgive them or not? They're pretty broken up about it," Sirius mused while they examined a room with a large tapestry. "Hermione and Ron, I mean."

"Maybe. Depends on them," Harry muttered. The last time he had walked in on his friends, they had fallen quiet and actually pulled a shirt to cover whatever they had been doing. They were being very secretive and the exclusion was starting to hurt more than the loss of trust.

"Hmm…. Well, I hope it turns out alright," his godfather mused, frowning at the tapestry before changing the subject. "When do you think that king of yours will pop up next?"

Smothering the urge to shiver at the words, Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. Twice now he's came by when I've been in danger - or he thought I was anyway. So, maybe... he only turns up when I'm in trouble?"

"Heh. Your very own guardian angel. How handy. Hey, maybe we ought to dangle you out of the window," Sirius suggested. "Because I'd really like to have a word with him."

The younger wizard glanced at the elder one. "About?" he asked carefully.

"The game, the rules, the magic," the animagus shrugged, folding his arms and frowning at the tapestry. "The more I hear about it, the more complicated it seems. And it's so weird that all of it has been going on without anyone knowing about it."

"Magic based on a muggle card game. I doubt many wizards would even joke about stuff like that," Harry answered. "And it's only the game portion that's complicated. The summoning itself doesn't have that many rules. But it is harder, though."

"Because it takes your own energy to do it, yes, you told me," Sirius murmured, and shook his head. "I still want to see it for myself, though. It seems a bit unbelievable. If that King of yours would pop up, maybe he could... demonstrate."

"Yeah. Or... you could try it yourself," Harry mused. "I’ve got loads of the cards now that the twins buy them for me. You could try using them."

"Hmm... yeah, maybe," Sirius mused, and quickly fell silent when Kreacher shuffled in, giving them the evil eye and muttering insults under his breath.

Aside from Kreacher muttering and insulting everyone, Mrs. Black's portrait screaming her head off at any possible turn, Mrs. Weasley yelling, quite often, at Mundungus, nothing much really happened. Sure, members of the Order came and went, but Harry didn't really pay much attention. For one, they never told him anything and for two, Sirius told him everything relevant anyway, so he didn't really need to bother with the other members. It was easier to just avoid them, really.

Yugi Mutou made his second appearance at Grimmauld Place three days after Harry had arrived at the house. There was another Order meeting and while it distracted the house, Harry wandered around the dusty old rooms. No one tried to follow him, as the twins and Ginny were too curious about the meeting and Hermione and Ron had taken to a habit of giving him some space. It was both a blessing and a curse because the longer they took making up their minds, the more Harry felt like their minds were already made, and he wasn't the choice they had made. Especially since they were whispering to each other a lot and had taken into vanishing together almost as much as Sirius and Harry did - except they didn't have Magic and Wizards and the Duellist Court to talk about.

Thinking of that, the Magic and Wizards and his upcoming trial at the Ministry, Harry found Mutou standing in front of a large glass cabinet filled with various instruments. They had been meaning to clean the cabinet up, but apparently there were too many curses to try it immediately, not before Bill Weasley got a crack at it and he wasn't due for weeks. By the look on the King's face when Harry encountered him, that had probably been a good idea.

"Hello, my fledgling summoner," the man spoke, throwing a friendly sort of smile over his shoulder when Harry approached him. The shadow was where it usually was, hovering next to the man, leaning in and examining the cabinet as well. "I was hoping you'd come by," Mutou said.

"H'lo," Harry answered cautiously while stepping closer. He glanced between the man and the shadow, frowning slightly. Was it just him, or was the shadow a little bit more solid than the last time? "Here I am. What can I do for you?"

Without answering immediately, the King of the Duellist Court looked around the room. "This is a fascinating place. Most of your world seems to be, really, but this house is really something else. So... grimy," he murmured, chuckling. "My Court has told me many interesting tales about your world, but here they seem more real. So strange, so... genuine."

"Your Court?" Harry asked. "They know about the magical world?"

"More and more by each passing hour, I imagine. We looked for you for a long while and now that we’ve found you, we will learn more," Mutou answered and Harry shivered at the echo of _or else_ in his words. "I took it upon myself to check out this place and while doing so, I encountered this," the King continued, motioning at the cabinet while the shadow left his side to examine the rest of the room. "And I do not feel comfortable with it in your vicinity."

"Huh?" Harry murmured, glancing at the shadow and then looking at the cabinet. "The cabinet?"

"No. This," the man pointed, and edging closer Harry saw what he was pointing at. A locket with an S engraved to it. "I fear it will have a negative effect on you, and right now I don't want anything affecting you, nothing you don't invite yourself," Mutou said, frowning at the locket.

"What is it?" Harry asked confusedly, looking at the other items in the cabinet. Plenty of them were dangerous, according to Sirius. So, if the King concentrated on the locket, it had to be something very special.

"It is death, danger and temptation," the King answered, shaking his head. "And I fear it might have the power of whispering in your dreams. Tell me, how have you been sleeping?"

The wizard raised his eyebrows. "Well... a bit restlessly, maybe," he answered a bit worriedly, and glanced at the locket. Whispering into his dreams? What did that mean? "It can give me nightmares?"

"And more. Dreams can affect people more than you can imagine," Mutou said with a slightly sad smile. "They can lead us to the truth or they can lead us astray. And I fear that you have enough bad influence trying to lead you astray, my fledgling summoner, that this thing," he turned to eye the locket again; "this thing will only make it worse."

"So, um... what should I do about it?" Harry asked a little nervously. Bad influence? Like what?

"Let me handle it," the King answered, turning to face him with a serious look about his oddly coloured eyes. "Unless your suspicious godfather would mind."

Harry looked between the locket and the man offering to take it away. "Take it," he then said. He doubted that the locket was particularly valuable, not at least if one judged by the looks Sirius had given the cabinet. Which was pretty much the same he gave to every other piece of jewellery or precious metal they had encountered. And if the locket did have harmful magic about it, Sirius probably preferred to have it out of the Grimmauld Place. "My godfather will understand."

"Good," Mutou said, glancing away from the cabinet and towards the shadow, who was already walking towards them. While Harry marvelled at the fact that the shadow _walked_ and not _floated_ , it and Mutou reached their hands out in unison, clasping their fingers together. Then they held their joined hands at the cabinet.

The wizard only barely managed to keep himself from jumping back when black mist suddenly filled the entire cabinet, making it seem like the windows had been darkened. It was gone almost immediately after it had appeared - and along with it, so was the locket, leaving behind nothing but an empty spot in the dust, marking where it had been.

"Wow," Harry whispered. Apparently shadow travel and summoning weren't the limit of Mutou's power.

"Much better," Mutou murmured, raising his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the shadowy fingers he was still grasping. While the shadow leaned in and wrapped its arms around Mutou's shoulders, the man turned to Harry. "Have you gotten new cards, my fledgling?"

"Yes, I have," the wizard nodded awkwardly, and reached for his pocket where his unfinished deck was. He held it out. "I'm not… it's not finished yet. And I can't try any of the cards out here, under age wizards can't perform magic outside of school…."

"It's alright. A summoner's deck tends to go through many changes over time. It is understandable if your first is rough," Mutou said gently while accepting the deck and starting to go through the cards. Nothing in his expression gave away what he thought about the deck, but Harry took some comfort of the fact that the man didn't seem disappointed or angry. "Good," he merely said before reaching for one of his numerous belts - and then taking it off. Before Harry could say anything, the man pulled out his own deck from the leather holster attached to the belt, and replaced it with Harry's. "Here," he said, handing belt along with the holster and the deck to Harry.

"I..." Harry stared to say, but couldn't get the words through. Carefully he accepted the belt, eyeing it with shock. It was black leather with silver-shaded rivets decorating it in neat rows. It looked old and well-worn with sings of age along the edges - the holster too looked like it had seen years. Oddly enough, the age made it seem all the more valuable.

"A deck should have a proper casing. It's pretty old, my first holster actually, but it should do the trick," Mutou said casually while putting his own deck into another holster.

Harry swallowed. The King's _first_ deck holster. _Holy crap_. "Thank you," the wizard murmured awkwardly and somewhat clumsily tied the belt around his hips. He felt awkward and oddly brilliant afterwards, finding the slight weight of the belt odd and strangely comforting.

"Looks good on you," Mutou mused approvingly, the shadow nodding in satisfied agreement. Then he straightened his back, glancing at the door of the room. "Time for me to be on my way --"

"Wait, my godfather wanted to talk with you," Harry said quickly. "About duelling. He's thinking of trying it himself."

Mutou hesitated and then nodded. "I know, but I have nothing to say to him - yet. However, if he wants to try the cards, he should. He might be able to summon," he said. "Not all are able to, though. Not even all magicians. It takes a special individual with a certain trait. You have it. Your godfather might have it. But what comes to the other people here… I do not know."

"What sort of trait?" Harry asked confusedly.

"A wounded soul," Mutou answered and bowed his head a little. "I will tell you more, but the time of that is not now, not yet. Take care, fledgling."

A wounded soul? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Harry really wanted to ask, but the look about the man's face said that this really wasn't the time. So instead asking anything, he sighed. "Alright, I will. And thank you for this," he nodded, patting the belt at his hip. With an almost apologetic smile Mutou and his shadow vanished in a rush of black, leaving Harry alone at the cabinet.

The deck holster and the belt weren't all the King had given him, he found a few hours afterwards when he went through his deck. There were new cards there that he hadn't seen before. First was a trap card, Assault Mode Activate and the second was another Arcanite Magician - in Assault Mode.

 

* * *

Sirius didn't mind the absence of the locket, bidding it good riddance when Harry told him about it. No one even noticed the locket or the lack of it otherwise, so it didn't come up again - not until Kreacher found out that it was gone, after which he threw an enormous fit and accused them all with everything from thievery to things not mentioned in polite company. Then the elf spent the rest of the day sobbing in his hidden corner. Aside from that, no one really cared, and things went as they did. If the lack of the locket made Harry's dreams any easier, he didn't really notice, but he had always been a somewhat bad sleeper.

The day before Harry was going to have his trial at the Ministry, Hermione and Ron seemed to have made up their minds. While Harry was putting the finishing touches on one of his essays in order to distract himself from the upcoming trial, they came into the room he shared with Ron, and locked the door. Seeing the looks on their faces, Harry closed his books, capped his ink and sat up, making a motion with his hand to tell them to go ahead, to say whatever they meant to.

Instead, Hermione pulled out a black mobile phone and handed it to Harry, who accepted it a little confusedly. After turning it in his hand for a moment and testing the weight, he concluded that it was either broken or a toy. "What's this?"

"A solution," Hermione nodded determinately while she and Ron pulled out similar devices and sat down beside him. "It's a phone. Muggles have been improving their phones a lot lately and this is what they look like these days - you can take them just about anywhere without needing an outlet or any wires and --"

"I know what a mobile phone is, Hermione," Harry answered and looked at the phone she had given him. It wasn't exactly the same as the ones she and Ron had, and by the looks of it, they were all dead. "What's the point in it? Muggle technology doesn't work around magic, you told me yourself."

"Because it isn't," Hermione said, and then opened her mobile phone to show that it wasn't a phone at all - inside there were two mirrors and no circuitry. "They're two way mirrors," she explained while Ron opened his mobile phone as well, and showed that it too had two mirrors inside his. "The top one on your phone is connected to mine, and the bottom one is connected to Ron's. And of course ours are connected to each other. Come on, open yours."

Shaking his head with slight bafflement, Harry did as told, the phone opening along the seam on a hinge like an odd, plastic seashell. Then, with surprise, he looked between Hermione, Ron and the phone in his hand. It was almost like looking at two tiny telly screens or very good moving photographs, except for the fact that the mirrors were long and narrow instead of being short and wide.

"Sirius and the twins helped us," Ron said, turning the fake phone in his hand with a look of satisfaction about him. "Sirius loaned us the gold to buy the mirrors and the twins went out and bought them for us. It wasn't that expensive even though we had to get three sets, since we wanted small pieces of the mirrors and didn't need any fancy frames. The twins also helped us get the phoneys too. Then Hermione took them apart and Sirius helped us put the mirrors in."

"Phones, Ron," Hermione corrected.

Harry blinked, and eyed the phone with new appreciation. "Your idea, Hermione?" he then asked.

"Well, when Dumbledore wasn't letting us sent you mail, I asked him if I could call you, and he didn't let me. I was thinking about how much easier it would've been if you’d had a mobile phone, and… well, after you said what you did, I got to thinking about them. Ron told me about two way mirrors, and we got to brainstorming…. So it was really a team effort," she shrugged sheepishly and smiled, looking at her fake phone. "This way no one can stop us from being in contact, or telling you what you need to know. No one."

"Not even mum or Dumbledore. The twins aren't going to say anything - they're making their own phones. And Sirius swore not to tell anyone either - he even said that he should have his own two way mirrors somewhere - he's going to give one of them to you as soon as he finds them," Ron grinned, before nudging Harry's side. "So? What do you think, mate?"

Harry eyed the two of them before looking at his phone. "This is what you've been doing, when you've been sneaking about and whispering an awful lot?" he asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," the two of them nodded.

The black haired wizard eyed his phone again, taking in the reflections of Ron and Hermione in them, both looking out of their respective screens with anxious looks about their faces. With a smile, he flipped the mobile phone shut. "Brilliant," he said. "These things are brilliant. I'm impressed."

"Enough to forgive us?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Come on, mate. We worked really hard on them. Do you know how hard it is to cut a mirror? Especially when it's magical!" Ron asked, and showed his fingers. He had numerous mementos of cuts on his fingertips.

Harry smiled. "Yeah," he said, wrapping his arm on Ron's shoulder and Hermione's waist and squeezing them compassionately. It wasn't really because of the mirror phones, but the concept behind them. They had gone the long way to make sure never to repeat their mistake, and had done so behind the backs of both Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore, despite their orders. "You know, you could make a fortune with stuff like these," he then said, eyeing the mirror phone they had given him. "These things have to be pretty handy. I bet a lot of people would pay for these things."

His two friends shared a brilliant grin and threw their arms around him. "Well, there are already two-way mirrors on the market, so it's not like we invented something new. And they're not as handy as muggle phones. You can call to any other phone from them as long as you have the number - these work only with their pairs," Hermione mused. "They're like walkie talkies actually."

"But the idea of making them look like muggle mobile phones is pretty neat," Harry said. "That could be useful for people who want to pass as muggles."

"People would pay for this? Yeah, maybe. Hey, maybe you can make the mirrors work like a floo connection," Ron said excitedly. "Every floo's connected, right, you only need the address? Maybe we could do something similar with the mirrors?"

"Maybe by a derivation of the spell work used in floo connections - I think I've read about those, I should be able find something about it in the Hogwarts library," Hermione nodded, looking equally excited. Her eyes widened. "A magical phone network. Oh my god, that would be so handy!"

Harry grinned. "Well, aren't we radical," he murmured, patting her shoulder. "Before you head off remaking the communications network of the magical world, I’ve got something to tell you about what happened the night I was supposedly kidnapped," he said and then added. "Just as long as you don't tell anyone about it."


	7. Court's Blade

Harry, Hermione and Ron had spent the previous evening talking about Magic and Wizards so late into the night that when Harry woke up, he could barely remember going to bed at all. Stretching and popping stiff joints, he only just recalled that today was the day of his trial about the underage magic. He had completely forgotten about it, but with fake magical phones and then card games… it was maybe understandable.

Careful not to wake up Ron, who lay on the floor next to a pile of cards, Harry dressed up in a bleary haze, checked that he had his deck and the phone - and remembered even to get his wand - and then headed out, stretching some more. While making his way towards the kitchen and feeling like the whole thing was a cosmic joke, he wondered how he would've felt about the trial before his encounters with the King of the Duellist Court.

He had no idea why, but right then it felt amusing - or as amusing as it could be at half past five in the morning. The Ministry of Magic getting all hot and bothered because one kid used a _summoning_ charm. Well, Mr. Weasley had assured him that the trial was a simple thing and that he would only have to explain himself and it would be alright, but still. With Dumbledore bustling about the Ministry and, by the sound of it, putting out bush fires caused by his little bit summoning, it seemed like he had committed some horrible act of illegal dark magic, or something. And with the stuff the papers were saying, Harry had no doubt that they would make a lot of noise about what he had done. Maybe even try and take his wand for it.

He laughed a bit at the concept and then frowned. Just when had he started to think that the concept of having his wand snapped was amusing? If they took his wand, he wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts, wouldn't be able to do magic, wouldn't be able to see his friends on a regular basis. There was nothing funny about that. At least there shouldn't have been. _When_ had it become funny?

Probably back when Mutou had demonstrated shadow travel. Maybe a little before that, with the summoning of the Dark Magician. All done without a wand. Except, that couldn't be it, not all of it at least. No, he had been distracted and a little worried back then, but not as careless as he felt now, not as amused. No, that had started when he had started to try and learn summoning.

He considered that for a moment before let the thought go. It wasn't important, really, and he rather liked the changes that had started with the meeting with the King. Because without them, he'd be a nervous wreck right about now.

He wasn't the only one awake, he found as he slid into the kitchen. Sirius, Lupin and Tonks were there along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the latter of whom was the only one not fully dressed. She immediately got up and headed off to get Harry some food, while Tonks yawned her greetings at him. Somehow, she managed to knock down a chair while doing so. The breakfast turned out to be more or less delicious and the conversation would've been informing and intriguing if Harry had actually been interested about watch duties and Scrimageours.

"It'll be over soon," Mr. Weasley assured, taking Harry's interest in the previous day's Daily Prophet as a sign of nervousness. "It'll take only for a moment and then you will be cleared…" Harry tuned him out as he started describing where exactly the hearing would take place, in favour of reading the previous day's jokes of him. They had been pretty cute about it, putting him in as the punch line of incident involving a chimera in a magical zoo at Greece, in which few were injured and one man was killed. Here conclude the tales of the chimera who lived.

The people at the table tried giving him instructions like be polite, don't be a smart ass and the law is on your side, but not much of it was all that useful. He was going to be very polite, after all. He was going to politely stay quiet and enjoy the spectacle, whatever it would turn out to be. Knowing Fudge, there _would_ be a spectacle.

It was a spectacle in its own right, as he eventually followed Mr. Weasley out and into the muggle world, where the man marvelled at the out of order ticket machines and the escalators. Harry followed the man with an odd, bemused mirth bubbling beneath the surface and had a sudden feeling that this was probably something like how Mutou felt with him. It was like watching a bumbling tourist or something as Mr. Weasley read the underground map and anxiously counted the stops.

The amusement didn't end there. The entrance to the Ministry was a phone box. Harry wasn't sure why he found it so amusing, but for some reason he couldn't stop himself from grinning while Mr. Weasley spoke to the disembodied voice and got him a visitor badge.

The Ministry itself was doing it's very best to appear impressive, at least the front hall with its many fireplaces and fountain full of golden statues. Harry eyed the fountain up and down and then grinned slightly. It was tacky. Really, really tacky. Even if the proceeds from the fountain went to St. Mangos, the thing was absolutely tasteless. But then, what else could be expected from the Ministry, really.

Mr. Weasley led Harry to a counter where a bored looking wizard measured Harry's wand, producing a slip of paper out of it before Mr. Weasley hurriedly steered Harry away. They encountered a lot of people, one of them greeting Mr. Weasley and complaining about a fire breathing chicken. Not much after that they took a lift which took them to the level two, where the hearing was going to be. They met up with Kingsley and continued on until they finally made their way to Mr. Weasels' small office - where they heard that the time and place of Harry's trial had been moved.

"Surprise, surprise," Harry murmured to himself, chuckling as Mr. Weasley dragged him out of the office again, nearly flattening poor Mr. Perkins against a wall. Here was the spectacle he had been expecting - or hoping to - run across. And running was involved, because though they took the lift, the new place of the hearing was inconveniently far away, and though there was barely anyone in the lowest levels, they still almost ran over a white haired man who sputtered an outraged, "What in the _blazes_ \--?!" and assorted curses after them.

They made it to the dark grimy doors slightly out of breath and there Mr. Weasley rather unceremoniously shoved Harry towards the doors. "Go on, get in. I'm not allowed to go with you. Go, go. And Good luck!" the man said, and with that pushed Harry towards the doors.

Harry managed to school his expression into something more serious as he made his way inside the large dungeon like hall. Then keeping a serious face proved to be an easy task, as he realised where he was, remembering the room from memories that weren't his own. He had seen the courtroom in Dumbledore's memories - it was where the Lestrange's had been sentenced to Azkaban.

' _I wonder if that means I scored the same as they did, to get here?'_ he mused, a frown coming to his face as he walked further into the room. There was a surprising amount of people there, talking amongst themselves in the highest benches. He was soon noticed, and a silence came about the crowd, sounding somewhat forbidding - and suddenly the situation wasn't particularly amusing. "You're late," a cool male voice accused.

"Well, you picked an inconvenient place for this trial," Harry retorted back. He wasn't about to make excuses for himself. He knew someone had tried to make him miss the trial on purpose. Tried to make him fail it by default. ' _I guess Fudge doesn't like me anymore, huh?'_ he thought.

"The Wizengamot did inform you of the chance of location, you should have been prepared," the man answered even cooler. "Take your seat."

And what a lovely seat it was, a lone chair in the middle of the room, armrest covered with chains. No, Fudge definitely didn't like him anymore. Harry smothered the urge to roll his eyes as he made his way to the chair and sat down, crossing one leg casually over the other and setting his hands confidently on the armrest, trying to imagine himself sitting in Yugi Mutou's throne instead of this borderline torture device. If Yugi Mutou had a throne, it was probably made of black leather, had many silver rivets and was very comfortable. The man seemed like someone who wouldn't endure stiff, uncomfortable chairs.

Wondering what the man would think of this situation, Harry looked up and eyed the people looking down at him. There were lots of them. ' _I wonder if they called the whole bloody Wizengamot here,'_ Harry thought, leaning his head back idly. He was starting to feel like Fudge actually disliked him. What a horrifying thought. Especially when he saw that the man was sitting in the front row, right in the middle, looking grim. ' _Actually, it might be that the man has something against me,'_ Harry mused, and smothered the urge to smirk defiantly. ' _What the hell is wrong with me? This isn't funny.'_ Harry eyed the court around him and noted none other than Percy Weasley sitting at the end of the bench, ready take notes. ' _No, this isn't funny.'_ It was bleeding hilarious.

"Very well," Fudge finally spoke. "The accused being present - finally - let us begin. Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into the offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

' _Of the smallest bedroom, and the poorest mattress,'_ Harry added inside his head. ' _Tch, tch. Power of details, Mr. Fudge. Power of details.'_

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Fudge continued on. "Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley --"

"Legal counsel and witness for the defence, Ryou Bakura," came from behind Harry, making Fudge stop and Harry blink with confusion.

A startled hush fell over the Wizengamot and while Harry craned his head to see behind himself to see who the heck Ryou Bakura was, Fudge seemed to have the same question in his head. "Who?" the Minister asked, frowning.

Harry's eyes widened. It was the same white haired man he and Mr. Weasley had almost ran over - who had cursed up a storm after them. He was younger than Harry had thought he was after the first glimpse - the white hair had thrown him off - but now that he saw the man close up, he saw that he was young. Probably only a little bit older than Percy - about Yugi Mutou's age, actually.

He had another thing in common with the King of the Duellist Court, too. He had a shadow with violent red eyes and dangerous looking smile following him.

"Ryou Bakura. I will be serving as legal counsel for Harry James Potter and stand as witness for his defence," the white haired man said cheerfully. He had his hands casually pushed into the pockets of his loose red robe, which was open at the front and revealed muggle jeans and a t-shirt underneath. While Harry stared at him in incomprehension, wondering what the hell this bloke was doing, standing as his witness, and how the hell he too had a shadow, the man strolled to Harry's side and bowed his head to whisper, "I'm with the Court," into his ear. And suddenly it made sense.

"You know this man, Mr. Potter?" Fudge demanded.

"Friend of a friend," Harry answered, relaxing again where he sat after a final glance at the violent eyed shadow. Unlike Yugi Mutou's shadow partner who seemed mostly harmless, this one felt… dangerous.

"I was under the impression that Dumbledore --" Fudge started, and stopped, frowning at his own lapse.

"Oh, I saw Mr. Dumbledore," Bakura said while nudging Harry's hand off one of the chained arm rests, and sitting on it without any care of the glares some of the Wizengamot gave him. The shadow, unseen by all except for Harry and possibly Bakura himself, leaned his elbows against the backrest, making Harry's back tingle unpleasantly with the knowledge that it was standing directly behind him. "I believe he had a bit of an accident. Poor fellow tripped down a flight of stairs, I'm afraid. Broke his nose too, judging by the looks of it," he added, smiling. "Now, does this most honourable court have objections against me standing as Mr. Potter's witness and counsel?"

Fudge frowned, looking between a now faintly uncomfortable Harry and cheerfully smiling Bakura. "No," the man said. "Very well. Witness for the defence, Roy Bakra, was it? I suppose we will be needing another chair --"

"Ah, yes, _Roy Bakra_ , perfect. And no need for a chair, I'm quite comfortable here," Bakura assured, crossing his ankles and shrugging his shoulders in an oddly boyish manner. "Please, do go on."

The Minister's expression didn't change, keeping its ever darkening frown. Harry had a feeling that the man was suspecting something, but there was apparently little he could do about it right then, except to go on with whatever plan he had had. "Well then. The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions…" Fudge went on, explaining in detail that Harry had performed a summoning charm in a muggle are, in front of a muggle, which was an offence under this and that paragraph of this and that decree.

That was as far as the Minister got. "Objection," Ryou Bakura said, rocking himself to his feet. While Fudge sputtered himself to a halt, apparently having not anticipated someone cutting in, the white haired man somehow produced a thick book from the pocket of his red robe. In a casual flip, the man opened the book which should've never been able to fit where it had been. Behind Harry, the shadow chuckled, making the hair on the back of the teen's neck stand up. "The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under Age Sorcery," Bakura started, "which you just quoted, states this in Paragraph B: _The enchantment, spell, potion or rune-graphical seal must produce a visible, effecting or otherwise discernible and perceptible result that can be observed by purely non-magical means_. Which was not in this case, because it was recorded, by your own Trace Recordings, that the Summoning Charm was performed without a wand and had no known magical effect."

"Excuse me, how did you --?" Fudge started, but didn't get any further.

"I also have here the recordings taken from Harry Potter's wand no less than fifteen minutes ago at the front desk of this very Ministry," Bakura proclaimed, taking out a tiny slip of parchment that Harry's wand had produced at the Ministry front hall. "Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, in use for four years - and last performed spell was a Point-Me charm, performed on the twenty ninth of June at eight fifty a.m. which places it on the day Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry concluded its 1994-1995 school year," Bakura finished with a flourish and happily handed the parchment to Fudge, who frowned at it like it had something unsightly written on it. Bakura, though, was far from finished.

"Which brings me to this; the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Under Age Sorcery states in Paragraph G this: _The offender will be found guilty of unreasonable underage sorcery if the magic is recorded or visually observed, or perceived in any other non-magical manner._ As the recording of the wand _and_ the Trace recordings state, there are no reliable recordings. And the only witness of this supposed incident, Dudley Dursley, was never questioned for his statement," Bakura continued with a smile. "In conjunction, the Decree also states in Paragraph F that, I quote --"

"Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocs' Statue of Secrecy forbids all unauthorised magic in muggle neighbourhoods!" Fudge cut in furiously and turned to Percy. "Mr. Weasley! Check Decrees B, G and F of the Reasonable Restriction! Also, Trace Recordings are not impeccable - take into consideration the underage wizards and witches living in magical areas; their Trace recordings constantly pick up magic done around them --"

"I was just coming to that - just let me finish. Decree F states this: _If the recordings of underage Sorcery are unclear, there must be either a witness or evidence of the performed sorcery_. In this case, you have neither present as no one thought to bring Dudley Dursley to the trial. Also, I would like to point out that Section 13 of the Secrecy Act refers to the local Decrees considering Misuse of Magic," Bakura pointed out helpfully. "Which in this time would mean the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Under Age Sorcery, naturally."

The white haired man coughed softly, looking a little embarrassed for Fudge's sake. "Also, speaking of Section 13 of the Secrecy Act," he started with an almost apologetic look while pulling out another book and opening it up. This book, by the looks of it, was about the Statute of Secrecy. "Where was it… ah here, Section 13, Paragraph D states: _A performance of magic or magical effect is considered in violation of the Secrecy Act if it is observed by a non-magical individual with no prior awareness or knowledge of magic, unless stated otherwise by other decrees._ In this case the only witness to the act of magic was, as previously stated, Dudley Dursley, who is a relation of Harry Potter and has naturally been aware of magic for years as the blood kin and close family member of a wizard."

"Weasley!" Fudge roared to the poor redhead who was desperately leafing through his copy of the same law book Bakura was holding. "Verify!"

Bakura, ignoring the man and the glares from some of the court members - and the fascinated looks from the rest - pulled out yet another book from his seemingly limitless pockets. "My gentle wizards and my fair witches of the Wizengamot, I presume you know this book?" the white haired man asked, showing the book to them. The shadow behind Harry was now breathless with laughter and Harry was trying not to squirm in the chair. "The Ruling Laws, Decrees and Directives of the Wizengamot, the year 1995 copy I would like to point out, read and approved by this very court no more than a month ago, as well as by the Ministry of Magic - and here on the sixth page we have the signature of our very own Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. If any here have a copy of their own, I would like you to direct your attention to Wizengamot Directive number 189, paragraph D…."

"I object --" Fudge started to say, but he had long since lost control of the proceedings to Bakura, who had somehow gotten no less than eight people to pull out their copies of the law book. Harry would've been impressed if the shadow hadn't been breathing down his neck, distracting him.

"You, fair lady, would you kindly read the paragraph for the entire court to hear?" the white haired man asked one old woman, smiling a wide, charming smile at her.

With bright red spots on her withered cheeks, the old crone cleared her throat. "Directive 189: _For the integrity and fairness of the Wizengamot court_ ," she started, her voice echoing in the now quiet courtroom, " _it is hereby considered unsightly and unfair to trial under age witches and wizards by a Wizengamot court without the presence of their parents or legal guardians, and thus it is decided that no such trial… is legally valid_."

The silence that fell was absolute for a moment before everyone rushed to read the Directive themselves - Fudge even snatched a copy of the book from a nearby Wizengamot member. Bakura, however, wasn't satisfied. "My fair lady, I asked you to read paragraph D of this directive," he reminded her gently, smiling even while tapping the floor impatiently with a sneaker clad foot. "If you would…."

"Oh, yes, of course. Pardon me, my dear," the woman flustered and picked the book up again. "Directive 189, paragraph D: _Trialling underage sorcerer without the presence of said sorcerer's parent or a legal guardian in a full Wizengamot court is considered a level three offence under Decree 43 of Wizengamot Law considering the abuse of Wizengamot power_ ," she said, finishing with a satisfied nod before looking at Bakura and asking almost sweetly, "How is that, young man?"

"Absolutely perfect, my dear lady," Bakura smiled cheerfully as he finished turning the trial into a farce. "Absolutely perfect." With the smile turning ever sweeter, the white haired man turned his attention to Fudge, who was speechless and red with fury. The shadow behind Harry seemed to be the only one who appreciated the situation; Harry could barely hear anything except its laughter. "Is there something you would like to add, Minister? Because my client and I here have an appeal to file against the Ministry and the Wizengamot…."

The noise that broke out after the silence that had fallen was almost deafening - Harry welcomed it with relief though, because for a moment it covered the laughter. The realisation that the court had performed an illegal act on Fudge's orders by taking Harry's trial from the Law Enforcement office into a full courtroom didn't please anyone in the room - especially not when someone exclaimed that the level three offence under Decree 43 forced Wizengamot to pay _fines_ to Harry for unjust legal procedures. Harry sat, staring at the chaos of the Wizengamot while Bakura coolly shined his fingernails against the breast of his robes. The young wizard probably would've found the whole thing amusing too, if the shadow hadn't been cackling into his _neck_. Unnerving didn't even begin to cover it.

"Order, ORDER!" Fudge roared, banging a mallet against the table and forcibly quieting the court. "I hereby dismiss the court of the Wizengamot --"

"Oh, no you don't," a woman not far from him snapped, snatching the mallet from his hand and leaving Fudge staring at her in outrage. "Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges?" she demanded, her voice piercing through the courtroom like a knife. There was a surprised silence for a moment, before the people realised that they were voting all of a sudden. Then hands rose. Lots of them.

Only two remained down, Fudge's and the undersecretary's. Bakura smiled in deep satisfaction and Harry squirmed in his seat, cracking a grin at the look of Fudge's face and then grimacing slightly. The shadow behind him was leaning forward, still chuckling, its chin almost sitting on top of Harry's head.

"Very well," said the woman with the mallet - Harry had a feeling she was Amelia Bones, judging by what he’d heard of her from Tonks and Kingsley, who worked under said lady. "I propose that we will now deal with the offence committed here by this very court, the unjust trialling of an underage sorcerer without a parent or a guardian present, which is a violation of Wizengamot law."

People in the court murmured uneasy agreements and not even Fudge said anything against it, even though he looked like he desperately wanted to. Satisfied, the short haired woman with the mallet leaned closer. "Mr. Bakura. How do you propose we should proceed in order to avoid any more undue legal trouble?"

"Considering how… awkward it would, no doubt, be for this court should the happenings here be prolonged… or publicised… I propose a compromise," Bakura smiled almost gently as the shadow started to howl again with laughter, unheard by the majority present and making Harry wish he could be part of that majority. "One hundred thousand galleons for my client, as compensation for the unsightly treatment."

"Are you _insane_?!" Fudge hissed. The Wizengamot court didn't seem too happy about the sum either, and Harry could only stare at his white haired legal counsel in horror.

"Or how about fifty thousand and legal emancipation? That way the next time you want to trial him, you can do it without breaking any major laws…" Bakura offered kindly while rocking on the balls of his feet, law books hidden in his pockets again, along with his hand. He looked incredibly like a little boy in a candy store as he smiled a sweet, _sweet_ smile. The breathless laughter from the shadow made it seem unbearably creepy. "Or, if you would prefer, there are numerous publications on the mainland, namely in France and Germany, and so on, who would pay royalties for this story… not to mention about the Americas… and Asia…. Magical Russia is having a slow news week today, wasn't it?"

"… Those in favour of the compensation of fifty thousand galleons and legal emancipation for Harry James Potter…?" Amelia Bones called. Again, only two hands didn't rise. "Very well then. Fifty thousand galleons will be deposited into Harry James Potter's personal vault in thirty days' time. The legal emancipation of Harry James Potter will come in full effect in approximately two weeks' time. This court is here by adjourned," she finished and banged the mallet against the table, and that was that.

While trying to figure out exactly how he had gone from the danger of losing his magic to getting a fortune and becoming suddenly a legal adult, Harry hurriedly stood up, happy to get away from the shadow. The Wizengamot got up as well, one by one, whispering and muttering amongst themselves, eyeing him with new found curiosity and Bakura with outright fearful respect. Harry didn't get the chance to examine that reaction too closely, before Bakura threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, and steered him out of the court, saying, "Just so you know, my fee will be twenty one percent. That would be ten thousand and five hundred Galleons, exactly." The shadow followed only half step behind him, making Harry's back tingle again.

"Get a vault and I'll have it transferred, once I get the money," the wizard said, not really caring about the loss of money. He would get fifty thousand galleons from the Ministry, losing ten thousand from it wasn't exactly something he couldn't handle. And right then, it was the least of his worries, really. "Um, did Yugi Mutou send you?" Harry asked, glancing at the shadow behind them. It leered at him, wide and sharp. "How did he know I was having a trial today, I didn't --"

"Oh, no, no, it's nothing like that at all. Yugi might've known about the trial, but he didn't exactly send me to your rescue," Bakura answered as they stepped out of the courtroom, reaching into his robes and taking out something - a thin stack of Magic and Wizard cards. "I just happened to be about when I heard about the trial. And when you nearly flattened me, I decided to take a look."

Harry stared at the white haired man with surprise and then blinked rabidly as the realisation sank in. "You just… decided to take a look? At my _trial_?" he asked with shock while stepping half a step to the left to get away from the shadow, which was inching closer to him. "B-but what about the decrees and laws and directives, all that stuff you said? What about the wand recordings? How did you know only Dudley saw - you mean you didn't prepare all _that_?"

Bakura looked between him and the shadow and smiled amusedly at his discomfort. "No, I just read the law books and memorised them," he answered, glancing to their left where a worried looking Mr. Weasley was taking hurried steps towards them. "The first thing you need to do when joining a new culture, you know. Figuring out the laws. Very important that," the man said solemnly, pulling out a card from the deck. "Also, with the interest Yugi has in you, I of course did some research. I probably know more about you than he does, not that he'll admit it."

Harry stared at him confusedly for a moment before shaking his head. "But… but why did you walk in like that, saying you're my legal counsel, if --"

"If Yugi didn't order me to? Because he ordered me _not to_ \- told the whole Court to steer clear of you. He's gotten so possessive lately, which is quite difficult to believe. He used to be such a sweet, kind hearted child…" Bakura muttered, shaking his head with a mockingly sad look about his face. Then he shrugged his shoulders and pushed the rest of the deck away, holding one lone card still in his hand. "Of course I had to do something. He kept telling me no, you see. He really should've known better. Aside from that, I wanted to see it for myself."

"See what for yourself?" Harry asked, and shifted away from the shadow who had been reaching a hand towards his face.

"That," Bakura answered, pointing between him and the shadow. "You can see him. Yugi told us you could see the pharaoh, but we didn't quite believe it. I certainly didn't, not until now. For five years now only Yugi, Malik and I have had that ability. That makes you one in… oh, a billion? Give or take a few hundred million," the man said with a casual grin. "It was worth defying Yugi's orders just to see that. Also, it seemed interesting, the trial, so I thought… what the hell."

"You thought… what the hell, and turned my trial into a joke?" Harry asked in disbelief, trying not to think about the shadow and the concept of being one in two billion. As statistics went, that was a bit overwhelming. " _Why_?"

The white haired man smiled and handed the card he had selected to Harry, bowing comically low. "Because unlike our good and gracious King, I am a meddler," he said and as young wizard, soon to be legal adult, accepted the card, shadows whirled up from the man's feet. "Also, it was a very profitable joke, wasn't it?" Bakura asked, and vanished with a loose salute.

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked as he reached the younger wizard. "Harry, what happened? Who was that? One of the Wizengamot members? How did the trial go? Dumbledore was supposed to come to be your Witness, but he never made it --"

"I was cleared of all charges," Harry answered a little dully, and looked down to the card he was holding. He could immediately tell it was the same as the crown card of Yugi Mutou, one of the Duellist Court's cards. _The Advisor_ was written on it, above an image of a dagger. "And then some," Harry murmured in faint awe.

"Cleared? That's wonderful! But how, Dumbledore wasn't…" Mr. Weasley glanced confusedly around the hall, and then stopped to stare at the door as the Wizengamot court started to file out. "Dear Merlin…. Were you trialled with a full court?"

"Oh yeah, full court," Harry grinned widely at the nearest Wizengamot member. The man hurriedly averted his eyes, flushing up to the roots of his white hair. The rest took his advice and hurried off, Fudge stomping off in a hurry as if getting away from a particularly bad smell. Harry grinned at them even more widely, enjoying the concept of having beaten the Wizengamot - or having had it beaten for him - to the fullest now that there were no shadows breathing down his neck.

"Morning, Arthur. It was a pleasure, Mr. Potter - and very impressive legal work on your part, if you don't mind me saying," Amelia Bones said as she walked past them.

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking shocked.

"I told you, cleared and then some," Harry grinned widely, feeling gleeful enough to burst. "It was an illegal trial. They trialled me against Wizengamot laws."

The man didn't seem to know what to say to that - or if he should believe him at all. "Well, it's best we be off," the man said, his back straightening as Percy walked past them, pretending to not see them at all. "I will take you straight back so that you can tell everyone the good news. Come along…."

They walked ahead towards the stairs - and then stopped at the sight of Fudge talking to another man. One with a pale face, blonde hair and robes that must've cost him a small fortune. Lucius Malfoy. "Well, well," the man said coolly. "Summoner Potter. The Minister was just been telling me about the… mishap in the court proceedings. How lucky for your legal counsel to have picked that up. And taking advantage of it too, hmm…. Quite… snakelike, in fact."

Harry eyed the man steadily for a moment and then smiled, wide and fearless, thinking back to the Graveyard and seeing the man's pale eyes through the slits of a Death Eater mask. Oh, how afraid he had been then. Oh, how very different it would be the next time. "Yes, well," he said, ignoring Mr. Weasley's grip on his arm. "I've always been lucky with my acquaintances."

"And so you get more money and privileges. What every hero needs," Malfoy murmured disdainfully.

"You don't like gold, Mr. Malfoy? My, I believe I've completely misjudged you," Harry grinned back, his leer only widening at the look on the man's pale face.

"We shall see, shan't we?" Malfoy murmured, glancing at Mr. Weasley and then completely ignoring him in favour of the Minister. "Shall we be on our way, Minister? To your office, perhaps?"

"Certainly," Fudge hurried to agree, giving a slightly unnerved look at Harry. "Right this way, Lucius."

Once they were out of hearing range, Mr. Weasley turned to Harry, hissing quietly, "What the hell was that, Harry?"

"Cheek?" Harry offered, and grinned. ' _Merlin, this has to be one of the greatest days of my life….'_

Giving him another look, this one with a mixture of concern and confusion, the man turned him to the stairs again, leading him hurriedly up them. Soon they were at the elevator and not much after that, they were on the top floor again - and Harry had yet to manage to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, despite the fact that it seemed to make people inch away from him. The grin only got bigger as they stepped out and into the hall where some sort of commotion was taking place. At first, Harry thought that it was about the trial, and that some Wizengamot members had spread the word of it, but as they walked closer to the source of the ruckus, he saw what had people so shocked.

Someone had stolen the golden head of the noble wizard from the Fountain of Magical Brethren.


	8. Price of Shadows

Everyone was happy to hear that Harry had been cleared of all charges. Ginny, George and Fred even did a dance and a chant in his honour, which lasted for almost half an hour before Mrs. Weasley got annoyed with it. The celebrations and congratulations lasted only for an hour or so, before Mr. Weasley returned from the Ministry, wide eyed and almost horrified, and demanded to know what the hell Harry had done.

Apparently the concept that the Ministry was making him legally an adult and was paying him royalties for unfair treatment was not what people wanted to hear.

"The whole Wizengamot is keeping a tight lid on this - they've even erased the records of there having ever _been_ a trial. All anyone knows is that it happened and that now the Ministry is paying you compensation - and they're pushing through a legal emancipation on you, making you legally adult!" the red haired, balding man said, looking like he was about to tear of the remains of his hair. "What did you do?! How did you do it?!"

"I didn't. My legal counsel did," Harry answered with a small smile. "He told the Wizengamot and Fudge where to shove it, grabbed them by the balls, and _squeezed_ and I am going to cherish the memory forever."

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "Language!"

Mr. Weasley, though, frowned confusedly. "But Dumbledore never made it --"

"Yeah, why didn't he?" Sirius demanded to know, raising his eyebrows.

"He, uh… fell down a flight of stairs on his way," Mr. Weasley answered with an awkward cough. "His nose was broken rather badly and he couldn't fix it on his own. The headmaster had to go to St. Mungos."

"All the better for me, I guess," Harry shrugged, trying not to laugh at the mental image of the great and powerful Dumbledore tumbling down the stairs.

Mr. Weasley frowned at him, not believing his innocent blink, and demanded to know, "What happened in the court, Harry?"

"What usually happens in courts. People talked," Harry answered and in the end didn't tell them anything more despite many demands to know who had represented him and how he had come on top like that - and where had Harry met his legal counsel anyway. "You make it sound like it's a bad thing that I was cleared the way I was," the young wizard finally frowned. "Would it have been better if they had snapped my wand?"

"No, of course not, but legal emancipation - Harry, dear, you're only fifteen…" Mrs. Weasley said. "You can't --"

"What, take care of myself? Of course not!" Harry answered with comically wide eyes. "It's not like _I_ have ever encountered Dementors or anything, or faced off with Voldemort, or fought for my life, or seen people killed, or rescued little girls from certain doom!" he gasped and then snorted mirthlessly. "Oh, wait, _yes it was_."

"This is different," she snapped.

"How so? It's not like it's going to make any difference. All the difference is that instead of a few hundred galleons in my vault, which I have little use for, I have a few tens of thousands, and still I have no use for any of it," Harry rolled his eyes. And he was still going to be treated like public property, no doubt.

"He has a point. But what _I_ really want to know, though," Sirius cut in, "is did someone _really_ steal the head of the wizard from that fountain? The one in the Ministry front hall, with the centaur and the house elf and whatnot?"

"Yeah," Mr. Weasley sighed, frowning. "The Aurors are on it, but no one has any idea how someone could do it in broad day light and with dozens of witches and wizards going in and out of the hall all the time…."

While they got to talking about that, Harry made a sneaky exit, not wanting to continue talking about his trial. Of course, the next thing he knew he was being dragged into a joyful dance with the twins and Ginny, who continued their chant of _He Was Cleared_ safely out of the hearing range of Mrs. Weasley. Hermione and Ron joined in too, and Harry let himself laugh, before giving them a roundabout explanation of what had happened, explaining the many red faces of Fudge in great detail.

"So… legal counsel?" Sirius asked later on when he, Hermione and Ron were alone with Harry in one of the dusty sitting rooms. "Let me go out on a limb here and throw in an educated guess that the Duellist Court had something to do with it?"

"That Mutou guy you told us about, mate?" Ron asked curiously.

"Well, no. But kind of," Harry agreed, pulling out _The Advisor_ 's card from his deck holster. He showed it to the others. "He said his name was Ryou Bakura and he was more or less working on his own. Saw an opportunity and took it. Mutou didn't send him," he added, frowning slightly at the card. The location in the card said _Working_ and _Ministry of Magic, Level Three, The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes._

"And he was your witness for defence? Harry how could he have been, didn't you say that the Duellist Court only found out about the magical world from you?" Hermione asked worriedly. "How did he even know how to get there?"

"He was already in the Ministry. Mr. Weasley and I almost flattened him on the way to the court room," Harry shrugged. "And he said that he read and memorised all the law books - and that he did research on me because the interest Mutou showed in me got him curious. He was pretty wicked too, referred to all these laws and decrees. Fudge barely got a word through."

"Laws? What laws? Maybe I could --" Hermione started, frowning.

"It doesn't matter what laws he referred to. If that king of yours didn't send him, why did he do it?" Sirius asked, frowning.

Harry shrugged and pushed the dagger card back into his holster, right next to the crown card. "I don't know. I'm paying for him, though, he's getting twenty one percent of what I get from the Ministry. That's pretty good motivation for the job he did, I'd say."

"Twenty one percent? That'd be…" Ron frowned, and then his eyes widened. "Wow. It's that what legal counsellors get? Wow." He had a look on his face which said that he was seriously considering a new future occupation.

"No, not really, except for in the muggle world maybe," Hermione said, frowning. "There is no job called legal counselling in the magical world - the system used by the Ministry and Wizengamot doesn't work like that. Taking from what it sounds like, he really acted like a muggle attorney, though, so that's probably where he got the idea of his payment. In the magical world, there is no such concept…. Oh, Harry, did you promise to pay that to him?"

"Yeah. And I don't care," Harry shrugged. "I mean, its money I didn't ever expect to get and don't really need and he did the work to get it anyway, so I think he deserves a share of it. It still leaves me with, what, thirty nine thousand and five hundred galleons? Plus what I already had previously. What do you do with money like that?"

"Lots of very stupid things?" Sirius suggested with a grin.

"Don't really need? Hey, mate, maybe…" Ron edged closer, a hopeful look about his face.

"If you and Hermione decide to start a business of making magical fake mobile phones, sure, I'll fund you," Harry promised with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The best thing about the whole thing is that I don't have to go back to the Dursleys anymore. That's all I really care about," he mused with a grin. "They will never ever be my guardians ever again. Aah, freedom. What a sweet idea…."

Ron and Hermione shared a slight grin, but Sirius just shook his head. "I wouldn't celebrate too soon," he warned, frowning. "With the way Dumbledore's been going on about the Dursleys and blood protections, I'm not sure if you can really get away from them. He seems pretty set on the importance of the blood wards, seems to think it's the only thing keeping you safe."

"Yeah, like with the Dementors? Perfectly safe, sure," Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. "He can try to put me there, but I have no obligations to stay," he said calmly, and then realised something else. "Hey, legal emancipation means that I can perform magic outside Hogwarts, right?"

"Well, maybe," Hermione agreed, frowning. "I'd need to see the final documents before I could tell for sure, but the idea was to make you legally adult? So, if it works like that, yeah, you should be able to."

"Oh, I'd love a deal like that," Ron murmured.

"It's not that special," Sirius rolled his eyes. "It only seems like that now because you can't, but once you can, it will get old pretty quickly and then it won't be any more special than it is at Hogwarts. Trust me, Harry will get bored with it too, soon."

"Maybe, but it also means I can finally practise summoning," Harry said, taking out his deck and shuffling through the cards. The only monster he knew he could summon was the Arcanite Magician. Though he had a full deck now, he had no idea if they would answer his calls. Only way to know that would be to summon and he hadn't been able to do that because he was still underage. But, once the emancipation went through….

"Probably better to wait until it’s official," Hermione said, despite bouncing a little on the dusty armchair she was sitting on. "Oh, but when you do, I want to see it. Magic in a muggle card game, it seems so unbelievable… I really want to see it."

Sirius and Ron nodded in agreement. None of them said it out loud, but Harry knew they all still rather doubted it and thought he was half mad to believe in it the way he did. Despite the fact that Mutou had made an appearance right in front of Sirius, even he wanted proof of the magic. Hermione and Ron were also concerned about the whole concept of the Duellist Court and had eyed Harry like he had suddenly joined the Death Eaters when he had explained it. However, to Harry's relief, neither of his two friends had verbalised their worries nor suggested that they should talk about the summoning magic with anyone else, keeping their promise to Harry to net tell anyone.

For now at least.

 

* * *

 

Someone, though, wasn't all that happy about the fact that Harry had been cleared the way he had been. That night, the constant spiking of his scar wouldn't let Harry sleep and while trying to sleep he tossed and turned, feeling Voldemort's annoyance somewhere behind his eyelids, like a flashing red light he couldn't block out. Eventually it drove him up and out of the room and into the silent corridors of the house in hopes of finding some way to distract himself from the pain. No one was awake at that time, not even Kreacher whom Harry could hear snoring as he stopped by the kitchen to get a glass of water.

' _I guess I ought to get adjusted to this now,'_ he mused while making his way to the sitting room where he and Sirius usually spent time. ' _With Voldemort being alive and all….'_

The concept that he'd be subjected to constant scar-pains didn't really appeal to him, but he knew he couldn't exactly ignore it, or Voldemort. It had been blissful to ignore it all for a while in favour of concentrating on Magic and Wizards and the Duellist Court, but the fact remained that there was a war brewing and he was unlucky enough to be a part of it. Despite how Mrs. Weasley wanted to wrap him in wool, he was Voldemort's number one target and he couldn't ignore that. Not even in favour of the Duellist Court.

' _Though, vice versa also applies,'_ he allowed. Yugi Mutou, the King, and Ryou Bakura, the Advisor. The King's Advisor maybe, even. Harry frowned faintly at that and then allowed his mind to stray along. Yugi Mutou, the casually powerful individual who came and went however he chose and ruled an entire nation that stretched across the entire world, unseen by both muggles and magicals - and who had an odd interest in Harry for whatever reason. Ryou Bakura, a man who could casually walk into a court room and into a full Wizengamot session and turn everything upside down, not because he was ordered to but _for the_ _heck of it_ and come out completely on top of it with profits and a great many new enemies. Both with shadows no one could see, one calm and curious that accompanied the King, other who had found great amusement in the play the Advisor had acted out….

If the whole Court followed the same pattern, maybe Harry had bitten off more than he could chew with the whole summoner thing. What other names he had seen in the King's Court deck? The Regent, the Knight and the Priestess - and those along with the King and the Advisor were only half of the deck. And if the _Advisor_ of the Court was such an odd, unpredictable individual who wilfully went against the King's orders… what on earth would the rest be like?

' _Though on the other hand, what use is there of an advisor if he thinks like you? Can't do much advising like that,'_ Harry mused. If he was a king, he would get an advisor who had different ideas. ' _Except I'd never want to be a king. Seems like way too much trouble.'_

Leaning his head back against the backrest of the couch he was lazing on, Harry gazed up at the ceiling. ' _What did Bakura say again…. The pharaoh?'_ He mused, thinking back to the brief talk he’d had with the white haired man. ' _That Mutou had told him that I could see the pharaoh….'_ Was that the name of the King's shadow? ' _Weird, and oddly fitting… pharaoh's being the kings of the ancient world. Ancient_ _Egypt_ _… I wonder why, though… no wait… I heard that before somewhere….'_

Frowning, he tried to think back. He had heard something about ancient times and a pharaoh before. When had it been…? ' _At Mrs. Banks' place,'_ he realised, his eyes widening. ' _Mutou said it! The power of… uh… no, ancient power, something like that. And a pharaoh of… shadows, wasn't it?'_ Was Mutou's shadow that pharaoh?

After a moment of thinking about it, Harry sighed. He couldn't figure it out and he didn't want to try and draw conclusions from nothing. Trying that had led him astray a lot of times in the past - with Snape in his first year, with Malfoy in his second, Sirius in his third… and with fake-Moody in his fourth. "I never learn, do I?" he murmured out loud and took a sip of his water.

"A learning impediment can be a mighty troublesome flaw for a student of magic, you know," a voice spoke behind him, and tilting his head back Harry saw the upside-down image of Yugi Mutou, standing directly behind him.

"What is it with you and appearing behind me?" Harry asked before he could think better off it.

"I like surprising people," Mutou smiled, leaning down and placing his elbows on the couch's backrest, at either side of Harry's head. "Hello, my fledgling summoner. I hear you had a run-in with a member of my Court, today."

"I did," the wizard answered. _Literally_ , as he had almost run over the man, he mused, glancing to his left when he felt a presence there. Mutou's shadow had sat down beside him, upper body tilted towards Harry, arm casually thrown over the top of the couch's backrest. Harry eyed the shadow for a moment. The eyes were clearer, he could tell the shape of the mouth and chin now… the hair and nose were a little blurry still, but the shadow was definitely getting clearer every time he saw it. "Did he tell you that?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to Mutou.

"Hmm," the King hummed in agreement. "In a manner of speaking. I would apologise for his meddling but since something good came out of it, I shall refrain. Despite the fact that he knowingly went against my word, but I should've known to expect it. Ryou likes keeping me on my toes, and takes great pleasure in gloating. He is currently under the impression that he knows more about you than I do."

"Does he?" Harry asked, and heard the shadow chuckle softly.

"Most likely. He is nothing if not excellent at sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, these days," Mutou laughed softly. "And the only one better than him at gathering info he should not know is my Regent," the man sighed softly. "Sometimes I think my Court lives only to be my personal nuisance."

Harry watched as the man pushed himself straight again and then walked around the couch. "That should make life interesting, if nothing else," the wizard mused while the King sat down beside him. "What are they like?"

"My Court? They are a collection of people I fear know me a little too well. They are my oldest and dearest friends - and enemies, once upon a time. And like Ryou, they find my interest in you quite amusing and are no doubt even now finding out ways to use it to tease me - or blackmail me. Ryou for one has spent the last few hours letting me know exactly how much you owe him for the stunt he pulled," Mutou answered with a chuckle, looking over Harry. "You don't look too well, fledgling," he then said, frowning.

"It's nothing. I just can't sleep," Harry shrugged, absently rubbing the still aching scar. "It's not the first time --" he trailed away as a barely see-through mass of blackness passed over his eyes. The hand of the shadow, who was now leaning closer and eyeing Harry's face - the scar - intently. "Um, yeah," Harry answered the silent question he could see in the red eyes. "The scar is hurting a little."

"The one you got from that Dark Lord of yours when you were a baby," Yugi murmured while the shadow frowned and Harry tried not to shiver at the feel of the shadow's odd, not quite corporal touch against his forehead. The King leaned closer as well and suddenly Harry felt a little like he was being pinned down by the two of them. "Rumour has it that it is connected to that Dark Lord of yours."

"Yeah. It, uh… it hurts when he's nearby," Harry answered, closing his eyes. It was weird with the shadow's hand there, right in front of his eyes when he could just see _through_ it. "Or when he's feeling strong emotions. Um… it hasn't really stopped hurting since he came back."

"Which was some time ago," Mutou murmured, gently brushing Harry's hair back and out of the way. "And no medicine helps?"

"Well, it’s a curse scar. There's not much you can do about them," the wizard answered

"Hmm…. A scar created by a failed killing curse, still connected to its caster," Mutou said thoughtfully. "Quite curious."

Harry swallowed. "Yeah," he murmured, opening his eyes as he felt the shadow withdraw its hand. Then he blinked, looking at the shadow a little closer. The shape of it was still dark, but all of sudden he couldn't see through it at all.

"What is it?" Mutou asked, noticing his stare.

"Um…. Every time I see him he gets a little clearer," Harry murmured, glancing at the Duellist and then looking back at the shadow, who was staring at him now more seriously. Harry could see the shadow opening his mouth, and could hear faint murmuring, but he couldn't make out the words. "No, I'm sorry. I can't hear you clearly yet. Could hear you laughing, though…" he said apologetically and then frowned. "I could hear Bakura's shadow laughing too. That… was kind of creepy."

"Incredible," Mutou murmured, staring at him for a moment and then smiling. "You are something special, Harry Potter. And I apologise for the Tomb Robber. He finds great amusement in, oh, everything. Especially nowadays, with Ryou being the way he is."

"Tomb Robber?" Harry asked curiously

"That is what he was, eons ago," Mutou answered and nodded at his shadow. "Like my partner was the pharaoh. They were adversaries back in those times. It's something that carried over to these ages, and was eventually passed onto Ryou and I."

Harry nodded slowly, not sure what to say to that. "Is that where summoning comes from? From ancient Egypt?" he asked while wondering why Mutou had his adversary as an advisor.

"Yes. The very first monsters were ancient Egyptian sorcerers who upon their death relinquished their spirits to the service of other sorcerers, the priests and of course the pharaohs," the King nodded. "Some even could command their spirits in that manner in life. My… our favourite monster, the Dark Magician, was in life my partner's greatest friend and servant who serves him, us, even after his death," the man added, nodding towards the shadow who looked away.

Harry frowned, glancing between the two and not knowing what to say. He decided not to say anything, as he couldn't exactly sympathise. "What about the Arcanite Magician?" he asked instead. "Do you know who he was before he became, well, a monster?"

"That, I do not know," Mutou answered calmly. "There are hundreds of monsters in the shadow realm and even after all these years of playing I only know a small sum of them - and I know the histories of even fewer. Ryou and his partner might now your magician, but I doubt it."

"Oh. Okay," Harry murmured, a little disappointed. Then, glancing at the shadow and then back at Mutou, he straightened his shoulders a little. "So, what can I do for you tonight?"

"Right now there is nothing I want. Except maybe to hear a little bit more about you," Mutou answered, frowning fleetingly. "I have to admit, I do not particularly like the idea of Ryou being able to hold information about you over my head."

"Adversaries, huh," Harry murmured, smiling faintly.

"If you think this is amusing, you should really see me with my Regent," the King murmured under his breath, before nudging Harry's shoulder gently while on the wizard's other side, the shadow of the pharaoh leaned closer. "Tell me something about yourself. I've heard rumours about your years at Hogwarts, and some of your adventures. Tell me about them. Something Ryou cannot find out in his… research."

Wondering when exactly had he become some sort of race for the Duellist Court, Harry took a sip of his water and leaned back. About his adventures, huh? He’d had plenty of those. "Well, in my first year, there was that thing with the Philosopher's Stone…."

 

* * *

 

The word came that Dumbledore was fine, despite the newly broken nose and some boils caused by the Department of Mysteries experiment that had more or less exploded on him when he had rammed into it. Mr. Weasley delivered Dumbledore's many grievances and congratulations to Harry, who didn't particularly care one way or the other, only that he wished he could've been there to see it. Harry knew that despite the injury, the Headmaster still visited Grimmauld place periodically, but never did they come face to face. Dumbledore seemed to have a new policy, following the lines of Let’s-All-Ignore-Harry, which the young wizard certainly didn't mind.

The Prophet of course did some articles about Dumbledore's fumble, calling him Fumbledore for a while, but that wasn't as interesting for the paper as the head stolen from the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which occupied the front pages for even longer. They still had no idea where it had gone, no real suspects and no idea how it had been stolen - but it certainly gave the Ministry a damn good excuse to perform many, many house searches.

"Never much liked the fountain anyway," Tonks admitted quietly to Harry over dinner one day, while Mr. Weasley read the latest list of houses that the Ministry had raided in order to find the missing head. "Tacky thing, it was."

Despite that, things settled into their normal course - which was barely normal in the hideout of a vigilante order. Mrs. Weasley still had them cleaning, Harry and Sirius still snuck away to talk about Magic and Wizards with Hermione and Ron joining them now, the Order members still came and went and meetings were still had. Ron and Hermione remained curious about the Order all the while showing a slight suspicion towards _Harry's Duellist Court_ as they put it, but they kept their promise.

"Well, I don't know. Another secret organisation popping up just after You-Know-Who came back - it just seems a bit too convenient to me," Ron shrugged. "But if you trust this Mutou bloke, then I trust you."

Hermione of course tried to do some research on the Court, but there was little she could do, locked up in the Grimmauld place as they were. When she finally did find something, in a magazine she had asked her parents to send to her, it was an article from two years back about Magic and Wizards, the Duelling Alley tournament in Japan, which mentioned Mutou. "There's just a tiny mention of him though," she said disappointedly. "About him, Seto Kaiba and Pegasus Crawford working as judges and referees in the tournament."

Harry let her do her research, knowing that it made her feel a little better and probably helped calm Ron down too. He also noticed that Hermione's and Ron's inclusion in the know had also eased Sirius's mind - even if only a little. That, though, led to an eventual setback. Sirius had never really said it but the possibility that Harry might be denied access to Hogwarts had given the man a little hope. Grimmauld place was a grim and lonely place and for Sirius it was the root of many issues the man never spoke off but which everyone with eyes could see. He was not happy, locked up in the house the way he was, and the idea that Harry might stay, even as irrational as that hope had been….

And now that Harry was going back to Hogwarts for sure, the man got depressed and surly. He still showed the same interest as before in Magic and Wizards and perked up every now and then at the slightest sound in hope of seeing Yugi Mutou, but he was definitely getting moodier and surlier.

"I would too," Harry murmured to Hermione who told him not to feel guilty and that Sirius was being selfish. "I keep imagining myself locked up at the Dursleys at his age against my will, and just that makes me want to go mental and break stuff up."

"Oh. Well, when you put it like that…" she murmured, frowning.

"Yeah, that sounds like a nightmare. Not able to go outside at all? I'd go nuts if that happened to me at the Burrow, and I _like_ my home," Ron mused, throwing down the rag he had been using and shaking the dirty water from his fingers.

"Well, he'll have company, right? It's the Headquarters, after all, there's people coming in and out all the time," Hermione said, looking at the two of them worriedly. "He'll be moody about it for a little while and then he'll get over it. Besides, he'll have plenty to do here."

"Yeah, cleaning. Absolutely thrilling stuff, cleaning," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

"And company doesn't much matter when it's against your will," Harry agreed, frowning darkly. "When it starts, a mood like that, even your best mate can seem like a nuisance and nothing will really cheer you up. What the hell is Dumbledore thinking anyway, locking him up like this? What makes you take a man who was, for twelve years, wrongly locked away in the worst prison imaginable, and locking him up in a place where that man no doubt had a very traumatic childhood? It's like he wants Sirius to go mental."

"Dumbledore wouldn't do that," Hermione said, but she too was frowning.

Harry wasn't so sure. The more he thought about it, the less shining Dumbledore's track record really was. "Who knows. Maybe not intentionally, but still. What's going on here isn't doing Sirius any good. And the longer he’s locked up like this, the more desperate he will get to get out," he muttered. "I'm worried. From what I've seen, no one but maybe Lupin is exactly sympathetic towards Sirius. No offence, mate, but your mum for one is only making things worse."

"I know. She can go on, and it's no secret she doesn't much like Sirius," Ron murmured, biting his lip.

"Oh, alright. But there's nothing we can really do about it, is there?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you could ask for help," a fourth voice joined the conversation from behind Harry, making him almost jump before he recognized the voice. He didn't even need to see the way Hermione and Ron both stepped back, to figure out that Yugi Mutou had once more appeared directly behind him. "Hello, my fledgling summoner," the King said cheerfully as Harry sighed.

"Eavesdropping is rude, you know," the wizard answered, glancing at the man and then turning to Hermione and Ron who were eyeing Mutou suspiciously. "Guys, this is Yugi Mutou, the King of the Duellist Court," he said, and then looked back at the man. "And this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

"Bloody hell. How long have you been standing there?" Ron asked.

"And how did you…?" Hermione asked, glancing around. "I didn't hear anything. Apparition usually makes a sound…."

"Maybe so," the leather clad man said with a smile while the shadow of the pharaoh behind him wound his arms around the man's neck. "And I wasn't as much eavesdropping as I was… overhearing."

"Same thing," Harry answered and dropped his rag into a bucket of soap water before wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. Then he turned to face the man completely, taking in the mischievous glint in his and the shadow's eyes. The pair of them apparently enjoyed messing with him. Go figure. "Though I guess I ought to start getting used to this. What can I do for you?"

"There is nothing I currently desire, though I thought I should warn you that Ryou has gotten his new vault and is anxiously waiting to collect what you owe him - despite my attempts at making him change his mind," Mutou answered calmly while glancing around. Idly he reached out and swept his index finger over a nearby wall, eyeing the dust that clung to it curiously. "Boredom is what drives me here this time. But when I heard what you said, I came to the conclusion that maybe I ought to offer my services."

"How?" Harry asked while Hermione and Ron glanced at each other silently.

"Your godfather has the potential of a summoner, fledgling. I told you this before," the King said calmly. "Has he, by any chance, tried his hand at it?"

"No. I promised to demonstrate it to him, though," Harry answered thoughtfully.

"Wait," Hermione interrupted. "Sirius has the potential? Does that mean not everyone can do it? I thought that magic --"

"No, it does not work the way you seem to think it does. You do not have to have magic in order to be able to summon and, in reverse, having magic doesn't mean you can automatically summon, either. Special circumstances are required," Mutou answered, shrugging his shoulders and almost dislodging the shadow's arms from around his neck. "In this house I've sensed only three with the potential - excluding fledgling, of course."

"Three? Sirius is one of them, so… who else?" Harry asked.

"Us?" Ron asked hopefully.

"No. Nothing stops you from playing the game, of course, but currently neither of you are able to summon - and you should be glad of it," Mutou said when Ron scowled disappointedly and Hermione opened her mouth to argue. "Summoners need to have a certain… trauma, a spiritual imbalance, to allow shadow magic to enter. People who are healthy and whole in their minds and spirits cannot - they are naturally protected by their wholeness."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked with a frown while Hermione narrowed her eyes.

Mutou sighed and shook his head, looking at Harry. "Fledgling can summon because of what happened to him when he was a baby," he said, nodding at the scar and making Harry's eyes widen a little. "Sirius Black has the potential because of his time spent in Azkaban. Severus Snape has the potential because he has brushed against certain dark sorceries and has experienced their burn. Ginny Weasley has the potential because she has suffered spiritual possession," the man frowned darkly. "None of these are events you ought to be jealous off."

"Really?" Harry asked with a quiet voice, and lifted his hand to brush along the scar. "Because of this, I can…."

"Is it like that with everyone?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Every summoner has some sort of magical trauma?"

"Magical, mental, spiritual, physical, it differs with each summoner," Mutou nodded sadly. "Some are born like that, others are traumatised by some sort of incident – an accident that kills a summoner's whole family for example… there are even some who intentionally caused such trauma, like by killing a loved one or intentionally self-inflicting a memory-altering brain injury."

Harry swallowed. He had known there was something special about summoning, but he had never imagined….

"What about you?" Ron asked suspiciously. "You have something like that too?"

"I was born with only half of my soul. Ryou is the same," Mutou answered solemnly. "Others in my Court were tortured or possessed, one ripped his own soul apart, two had their souls ripped out of them… and so on. The tales of every summoner follow these lines. There is no summoner alive who hasn't been wounded one way or another. There cannot be. One could even say that a summoner's ability is paid in blood and pain. It is not free."

"Oh," Ron murmured, giving Harry a wide eyed look. "Blimey, mate…."

There was a moment of silence while Harry tried to find his mental equilibrium. He had a feeling that Mutou hadn't meant to tell this to him so soon - and he would've preferred to hear it a bit later on too. Before he had thought of summoning as a lucky break, his sudden chance against Voldemort, and now… that he knew the price of it all, it didn't seem like luck. "So… uh. What was that about Sirius?" he asked in order to try and distract himself from the idea that losing his family and being hit by the killing curse was what had paved his way to summoning.

"Like I said, he has the potential," Mutou said almost kindly, looking at him with compassionate eyes. "If he wants to try, I can help him."

"How?" Hermione asked. "I mean… summoning doesn't exactly change the facts. He'd still be a wanted fugitive. He still can't go outside."

Mutou smiled and shook his head. "In every single country of the world?" he asked and turned to Harry. "Shadow Magic could do your godfather some good. Think of what it has done to you."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning worriedly.

"Oh, my little fledgling," the man chuckled softly, and behind him the shadow laughed as darkness swept up and enveloped the pair of them. "You already know."


	9. The Enchantress

Harry was rather relieved when the booklists from Hogwarts finally arrived. Ever since the talk with Yugi Mutou, Hermione and Ron had been eyeing him like he was about to fall apart, having apparently never really thought of the whole killing curse ordeal as a traumatic incident before now. Harry, who was busy trying to figure out how he viewed summoning now that he knew the price, was even more relieved when a thoroughly shocked Ron produced a Prefect badge from his letter.

"Bloody hell!" the redhead gasped and was teased, congratulated and suspected for it, while most people eyed Harry and wondered why he hadn't been given the honour - and whether he was jealous. Harry found that he was just relieved. He had other things to do, other concerns to worry about - and being a Prefect would've probably brought him into closer contact with Dumbledore, which he’d rather avoid right now. So he congratulated his best friend and went back to musing about the payment of summoning, only pausing to check out the book list for the school year.

"Defensive Magical Theory?" he murmured while George and Fred wondered about the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "The heck? Is it theory about defensive magic or magical theory which is particularly defensive about itself? Sounds like a comic book," he grinned faintly as twins picked it up and soon it became "The adventures of the defensive Magical Theory, the protector of poorly named wizards around the world."

Of course, with the Order thinking it was dangerous to even sneeze outside the house, Mrs. Weasley did all their shopping for them - after spending a whole lot of time cooing over Ron and the badge of course. Harry didn't much mind the inability to shop for himself, because the coming of the Hogwarts letters marked something else. It had been almost two weeks since the Wizengamot trial - and Amelia Bones had said that it would take two weeks for the emancipation to pull through. While waiting, he reorganised his deck and set down the monsters he wanted to try summoning once he could do it without triggering any alarms.

While he was doing that, trying to decide whether to make Arcane Apprentice or Night Wing Sorceress his first summon or whether or not Magicat would be the best choice, Sirius sat down beside him with a serious look about his face. "Hermione and Ron told me about your latest encounter with that king of yours," the man said while sipping from a large cup of tea. "Magical traumas, huh?"

"And here I hoped they'd be distracted enough with their badges to leave me alone about it," Harry murmured while lining the three different magicians on a table, just below the Arcanite Magician. _'I need more monsters than just magicians,'_ he thought, shuffling through his deck again. "I think summoning has more to do with the soul than anything else. Why else could muggles do it, as they don't have magic? No, whatever makes summoning possible isn't just magical, it's spiritual."

"I did sort of already figure that all out, kiddo," Sirius answered, frowning. "The problem I have with this, though, is the fact that magics that affect the soul are generally dark and illegal. If this summoning thing comes from the soul…" he trailed away and took another sip of tea. "That's what the killing curse does, you know. Every time you use it, it shatters your soul a little. That's why dark wizards get, you know… mental the more they use it."

"So, every dark wizard who has used Avada Kedavra can summon? That would worry me if I didn't know how much they hated all things muggle," Harry murmured, leaning back with a sigh. "It's not the same thing as dark magic," he said determinedly. "It's nothing like that at all."

"It's magic designed for battle, for using other beings as weapons," Sirius countered. "And didn't you tell me the monsters used in this thing were people once?"

"Who willingly sacrificed their souls to the service of others," Harry shook his head. "It doesn't make them any better or worse than ghosts. It doesn't make the summoning any darker than normal magic is. Just different."

The elder wizard eyed him seriously for a moment. "Why are you so adamant about defending this stuff?" he asked. "Just because you're one of them now?"

"Not just because, though I guess that's part of it," the younger wizard murmured, frowning. "It's more than that. I can't explain it, but I… it's changed me. I'm… different now."

Yugi Mutou had said he knew what summoning had done for him, and yes, he did know. He wasn't as indecisive as he had been, not as worried, or nervous or… irrational. He hadn't had a single emotional outburst in weeks and he was _confident_ in a way he had never been before. "I feel whole," Harry said, glancing up at his godfather. "I feel grounded. I feel…" he frowned, trying to look for the right word. "Balanced. Yeah, I feel balanced now."

"And you think it's because of this summoning stuff?" Sirius asked.

"Because of shadow magic," a new voice answered in Harry's stead and looking up sharply the two wizards saw a white haired man standing by the window at the other end of the room. Bakura, now dressed only in muggle clothes, was peering out of the window while the shadow beside him eyed the room curiously. "That's what it does," the white haired man shrugged. "It seeps in through the holes and cracks in your soul and becomes a permanent fixture. Rather like glue. The longer it goes on, the stronger your soul becomes. It's kind of like a spiritual steroid."

The man turned to them with a grin and Harry saw that he was holding something shiny in his hand. The young wizard barely managed to stop himself from gaping. It was the head from the Fountain of Magical Brethren. "Alas, poor Yorick!" Bakura said, holding the head dramatically and eyed it with fake sadness. "I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times…" the man paused and frowned at the golden head. "Is it just me, or does that sound extremely kinky? What do you think, Yorick?"

"Isn't that the…?" Sirius stared at the man for a moment before shaking his head and turning to Harry for explanation.

The teen sighed, not sure if he was supposed to laugh or be outraged. _'Tomb Robber,'_ he thought, shaking his head. He should've known. He couldn't make himself feel sorry for the Ministry, though. "Sirius, meet Ryou Bakura, the Advisor. He's the one who showed up at my trial. Ryou Bakura, meet Sirius Black, my godfather," he introduced, wondering if Bakura would start popping up at random like Mutou did. "Let me guess, you can track your card like the King does?"

"I'm better at that than he is. I'm the original tracker you see. He learned all he knows from me. Will never admit it, of course, but that's nothing new," Bakura grinned, throwing the golden head in his hand and catching it lazily, despite how much it must've weighed. Then, holding the head under his arm, he took out a thin deck. "I just popped in to tell you that my vault's number is one thousand eighty seven - and to do this," he said, holding out one of the cards like showing it to the room.

Harry hurriedly stood up as he saw shadows spilling out of the card, like thin tendrils reaching out. Then, like in normal summoning, shadows stirred across the floor, raising and twisting as if with a mind of their own. Then, without a sound, a woman with long blonde hair appeared, dressed in a white vest and miniskirt which left rather little to the imagination. Harry could immediately tell she was no monster, though.

"Oh, my," she murmured frowning and covering her mouth with her hand and coughing softly while Harry looked her up and down curiously and Sirius blinked rapidly in shock. The woman sneezed and shuddered. "Oh, disgusting. This place could use a little incense if you don't mind me saying," she groaned, making a face and not noticing how Harry's eyebrows rose at the sound of her accent. It was American. "Or maybe a lot of it. Ye-ouch."

"Meet the Enchantress," Bakura grinned while pushing the cards back into their holster. Then the man saluted lazily while the shadows slithered up from his feet and reached towards his red eyed shadow companion. "Also, I want my money by the end of the month - or else." With that said the man vanished, the shadows sweeping him away, leaving Harry for a moment to wonder how he had missed Bakura's accent before. Unlike Yugi Mutou, who spoke English well but with a foreign accent. Bakura spoke it like a Britt.

 _'On the other hand, who notices their own accent, really,'_ he mused, thinking it was like noticing a black haired foreigner among people who all had black hair. _'Except he doesn't, of course. Wonder why he has white hair anyway…'_ he mused and then turned to look at the woman who was still standing before them and still holding her mouth. "Um… you get used to the smell if you don't think about it too much," he said to her, making her sigh and lower her hand.

"Well, maybe. I rather doubt it though. How you can live here, I have no idea," the woman murmured, placing her hands to her hips while Sirius slowly stood up as well, staring at the woman like he had never seen one before. "But very well. Let's get on with this. My name is Mai Kujaku, the Enchantress of the Duellist Court." She introduced herself in a sort of no-nonsense way that reminded Harry oddly of McGonagall.

"Okay…" Harry murmured, blinking. Unlike Bakura and Mutou, the woman didn't have a shadow accompanying her. _'Not all of the Court has them, then? I guess it's not a_ _prerequisite then,'_ he thought with a little bit of relief. Maybe he had finally met a Court member who wasn't slightly mental. "Well, I'm Harry Potter, and this is my godfather, Sirius Black. It's very nice to meet you. What can we do for you?"

Kujaku eyed him for a moment before narrowing her eyes and folding her arms. "I have come to give you a piece of my mind, Harry Potter," she said. "So you can sit down like a good boy and listen for a moment. And you," Kujaku turned to Sirius. "Shoo, shoo. I’ve got no beef with you."

"I don't know who you think you are, lady, but I'm not going anywhere," Sirius snapped while Harry blinked, wondering what he had done this time. "This is my home you just waltzed into like that, so you have no say about when or where I leave or not."

"Is that so? Well then, stay if you want to, I don't care," Kujaku huffed and then turned to Harry who was still wondering what he had done wrong. "Now, you listen to me, Harry Potter. I don't know what your game is but I will have none of it. Yugi might like you for whatever reason he has, but I don't care. He was my friend long before you even knew magic existed and if you think I'm just going to stand idly by while you mess with him, you have another thing coming! Mess with him and you mess with me, bucko!"

Harry eyed the woman for a moment in utter confusion. "Excuse me?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, what the hell, lady?" Sirius asked in equal bafflement. "You're making it sound like Harry's the one who pops in and out of _other people's homes_ and does whatever he likes! What the hell do you mean, mess with him? Your King's the one filling Harry's head with all this summoning nonsense! Hell, if you want to go off yelling at someone, go yell at that Bakura bloke, he's the one messing around!"

"Oh really, is that what you think?" Kujaku asked, narrowing her eyes. "I know what it must seem like to you, not knowing any better, but Bakura always has a reason for doing what he does - and I know it might be surprising for your small mind, but usually it’s a pretty good one. And don't bring him into the conversation after what he did for your little Harry. If anything, you owe him."

Sirius gaped at her for a moment and then straightened up. "Excuse -"

She didn't let him get any further. "And don't try to tell me it's Yugi's fault he's all beside himself. Oh, he tries to hide it and act all tough, but he isn't really as tough as he seems - and hell, anyone with eyes can see he doesn't seem that tough to begin with. And ever since he met your little wizard-boy, he's been acting really strange and it's that boy's fault, no matter what you say. So don't you dare to pin this on Yugi because -"

"Seriously, lady, what the hell?" Sirius asked with disbelief. "Are you even hearing what you're saying? And have you any idea what the hell has been going on in the first place? I mean, honestly. Here is Harry, minding his own business, and your king shows up from nowhere and starts turning his life upside down with all this card game and summoning bollocks! And you honestly are trying to tell me it's somehow Harry's fault? What the heck are you accusing him of anyway?!"

"Of messing with Yugi's head! He's had it tough enough as it is, and here comes this wizard-boy giving him all this false hope - he just got over that whole Item mess and now this happens! All of sudden there’s yet another magical world and a whole bunch of you wizards and he's all beside himself - and who is going to pick up the pieces when it doesn't pan out and turns out to be yet another case of false advertising and he gets all depressed again? We are, the Court, we will have to watch him go through it again while you go sauntering off in your own little world with your magic tricks!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Sirius demanded to know. "What false hope?! If anything, it's that king of yours who is giving false hope to Harry --!"

Harry looked between his godfather and the Enchantress of the Duellist Court, wondering what had just happened. He had been about to get berated for something he didn't even know he had done, and all of sudden Sirius is standing in his defence against some woman neither of them had even met before? _What the hell_ pretty much covered it. Sighing, he slowly sat back down. And here he had hoped he had finally met a _sane_ Duellist Court member. _'Got ahead of myself,'_ he mused, silently observing the ping pong match of arguments in front of him.

The most frightening thing was, he had only met three members of the Court. There was still who knew how many left.

Sirius was shaking his head at Kujaku. "...You, lady, are crazy - totally, utterly, completely bat--"

"You're not even listening to me! Oh! You're just like Jonouchi! He never listens either!" Kujaku growled in frustrated anger, and then turned to Harry, pointing a highly accusing, well-manicured finger at him. "You, wizard-boy. What are your intentions with Yugi anyway?!"

"My what?" Harry asked, a bit startled to find himself back in the conversation.

"Your intentions! Because so help me God if you intend to mislead him somehow --"

"Oh, you think Harry has some illicit plans? What a laugh!" Sirius snorted, still in the full swing of the argument. "What are you going to do, beat him up for your little king?"

"What? Of course not, _geez_! I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole," the woman snorted. "Yugi would chew me up if I did. No, I just figured I'd make his life a living hell."

Harry shook his head. "Listen, lady, I have no idea what you think I did, or am doing, or am going to do, but I think you have the wrong idea here," he said. "I have no intentions what so ever. Except maybe to learn more about summoning and try and become better at it. Besides, the King saved my life. Why would I have bad intentions towards him?"

"Oh, really?" Kujaku asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, really," Harry nodded, smothering the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hmm.... Fine, be that way. But I will be watching you, wizard-boy," the woman assured suspiciously. "You try anything at all, and you’ll find me on you quicker than you can imagine." She huffed and turned to Sirius. "And you! That is no way to speak to a lady. You should be ashamed."

"Oh, up yours, crazy lady," Sirius answered, folding his arms and looking at her imperiously. "You're the one breaking and entering and shooting your mouth off at people who did nothing wrong, so you really have room to talk about manners."

"Uuh, you... _man_!" she harrumphed angrily, shadows flickering at the ankles of her high heeled boots. "I will be watching the _both_ of you, mark my words!"

As she faded into the shadows, Sirius made a somewhat rude gesture after her while Harry merely shook his head in further bafflement. The Duellist Court was making less and less sense to him. _'Well, at least not all of them seem to be there only to bother Mutou,'_ he mused. The concept that Mutou needed a _protector_ was completely ridiculous, though. As was the fact that Kujaku apparently thought Mutou needed protection from _Harry_. Where the woman had gotten her strange notions, he had no idea.

"Well, that was weird," Sirius murmured, looking at the spot where the blonde woman had stood. Then he turned to look at Harry who just shook his head, having no answers to give. "These Duellist Court people seem a bit mental to me. I thought that king of yours was just special, but that Bakura bloke gave me the creeps - crazy lady is obviously crazy."

"You're telling me," the younger wizard snorted.

"You think it's really safe, making business with these people?" the Animagus asked seriously.

"Nope," Harry shrugged. "But you have to admit, it's not boring."

The man snorted. "No, it's definitely not that," he agreed, turning to look at where Kujaku had stood. He got a thoughtful look about his face. "They have women in that court too, hmm.... Maybe I should try this summoning stuff after all," he mused, brushing his hand over his chin.

Harry gave him a slightly narrowed look and then grinned. Sirius had been _impressed_ by Kujaku. And the woman's figure had apparently left an impression as well, if the look on the man's face was any indication. _'Merlin, this would be embarrassing if it wasn't so funny,'_ he thought, looking away to hide his expression. "We could look over the cards again," he offered after managing to school his expression. "See if any of them stand out."

"Yeah, let's do that," Sirius agreed. Harry grinned and stood up so that they could get his stack of extra-cards.

 

* * *

 

The emancipation forms were delivered the next morning by an impressive owl from the ministry, who with a no-nonsense attitude dropped the sealed roll of parchment in front of Harry on the kitchen table, and then flew out of the window again without a backwards glance. With Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Lupin, Sirius, the twins, Ron and Hermione all looking over his shoulder, Harry broke the purple wax seal, and rolled the parchment open. It was filled with text, writing out all the details concerning his emancipation, the loss of certain privileges and the gain of others.

Hermione and Mr. Weasley, who were better at deciphering the official text, read the letter through and laid down the gist of it. "Basically, you're no longer considered a ward of Hogwarts and are fully responsible of your own actions. You can no longer get free health care at St. Mungos, have to pay your fees for the Gringotts vault you own, are expected to pay your taxes and can legally perform magic within the limitations of the Secrecy Act," Mr. Weasley read. "Also, the Dursleys no longer will receive the child allowance they've been receiving since you were taken in by them."

Harry stared at the man for a moment and then asked slowly, "the Dursleys got a child allowance for me?"

"Yes. Of course it came from the muggle government, but --" the man trailed away at the look on Harry's face. "Isn't it standard with muggle children?"

"Yes," Hermione said, looking at Harry. "Harry, you're in the muggle system, you know. If would be strange if you didn't get the allowance."

"Yeah, well..." Harry grimaced, the concept of being of age no longer seeming so grand. The Dursleys had always been moaning about what a free loader he was, and how they were wasting money on him and how much keeping him cost. To find out that _they_ had gotten money because of _him_... it was oddly humiliating and angering. Not that he would've ever had any use for the money, but to realise they had gotten that and still constantly bitched....

 _'I am never going back there,'_ he thought determinately. _'Hang what Dumbledore thinks. I. Am. Not. Going. Back.'_

"Well, congratulations, mate!" Ron entrusted, nudging his shoulder. "Legally allowed to do magic!"

"Congratulations," Lupin nodded with a smile. "Just remember to keep it within limits and do not tempt the Secrecy Act."

"And whatever you do, don't take Fred and George as a good example!" Mrs. Weasley said, frowning at the twins who blinked back innocently. "There is no need to use magic for every little thing. Especially when you're still under trained."

"You calling us stupid, mum?" the twins asked in unison.

Harry shrugged his shoulders at them and the congratulations he got, and read through the letter again. "What does it mean, no longer a ward of Hogwarts?" he asked. "I didn't know I _was_ a ward of Hogwarts."

"Every student is," Hermione explained. "It's like the magical version of an insurance policy. Hogwarts looks after its students - for example, if in middle of your schooling you stop being able to pay the tuition, Hogwarts is obligated to pick it up. And if you get injured, the injury is treated in the hospital wing. That sort of thing."

"Does it mean that if I get injured at Hogwarts, I’ve got to go to St. Mungos - and pay for whatever care I get?" Harry asked, frowning. It wasn't that he really minded, but it seemed rather inconvenient. Why had no one told that before? Did the seventh years that had turned seventeen have to go to St. Mungos too? "I get injured a lot at school. If I’ve got to come to London every time --"

"No, of course not - Madam Pomfrey will treat you like she has always done," Mrs. Weasley assured.

Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement. "That's merely the letter of the law, not the spirit of it," he said. "Nothing will really change for you at Hogwarts, so don't worry about that. You’ve got your tuition paid for the full seven years, that will cover any issues that might come up."

Harry was tempted to ask who had paid for his tuition in the first place - it had never come up before - but just nodded in the end. It was either his parents or Dumbledore had taken the amount from his vault when the man had still had his vault key. _'Which just makes it easier for me,'_ he mused, and rolled the parchment shut.

About two hours later, he, Sirius, Ron and Hermione found a quiet moment and sealed themselves into the sitting room where they usually spoke of duelling and other stuff they preferred the Order not to know about. While the three others waited anxiously, Harry went through his deck. He was tempted to try and summon the Arcanite Magician, but he hadn't forgotten the dizzy spell he had gotten the first time. So, instead he opted to go with other summons this time, and maybe work his way up from there.

After some time contemplating, he chose to try the Magicat as his second summon. It was a relatively low level monster - and wasn't particularly scary looking which was a plus - so it should be safer than some of the others. So, holding the card out to a cleared space in the middle of the room, Harry tried to recreate effect he had managed with the Arcanite Magician.

Nothing happened at first. There was no flicker of shadows like when Mutou summoned, nor was there any burst of light like with Arcanite Magician. Frowning, Harry tried again at a slightly different angle, and instead of trying to bring the monster forward, he tried feel like casting a spell. This time, surprising him enough to make him almost jump back, the answer was immediate.

In whirl of white smoke, the Magicat appeared, a large white cat standing on its hind legs, holding a large staff. While Hermione gasped, Ron let out a breathless, "bloody _hell_!" and Sirius leaned closer curiously, Harry touched his chest, trying to sense any of the fatigue he had felt the last time. Nothing. The difference between level seven and level two monsters was astonishing.

"So... this thing now follows your orders?" Sirius asked curiously while the Magicat turned its eyes to the animagus. The cat had odd eyes, both shaded with different colour. "What can it do?"

"Attack or defend," Harry answered, eyeing the card. The Magicat wasn't all that strong, but it had a very nifty special effect - especially considering Arcanite Magician. "And from what I've understood, they don't always follow orders. Some can go against their masters if the master gives a bad order. And of course, they can decide not to let them be summoned at all."

"It's pretty cute," Hermione noted, leaning closer and making the Magicat blink rapidly and then turn coyly away. "Oh, it can understand me!"

"It would be pretty hard for them to work with summoners if they couldn't," Harry chuckled, crouching in front of the monster. It _was_ a pretty cute little thing. "H'lo. You willing to work with me? I'm still a bit rough at this, but I'm going to practice until I got this summoning stuff down. What do you say?"

The monster gave him a thoughtful two-toned stare and then smiled like only a cat could. "Meowr," it said with a nod, leaning onto the heavy looking staff it was holding. In the background, Hermione let out a small, delighted coo.

"Great!" Harry grinned, and looked at the card again, remembering that the Arcanite Magician card had changed after he had summoned the monster. This time he caught the change, and saw how in the image the Magicat changed positions, relaxing its posture and sitting comfortably down. He eyed it for a moment and wondered if all the cards he could use would change like this.

"Thank you," he said, grinning at the Magicat, who grinned back. Smiling, Harry turned to look at the others. "What do you think?" he asked.

"Pretty wicked. Not as impressive as I had hoped for, but pretty wicked," Ron said solemnly, and then leaned eagerly forward. "Try another monster." Hermione beside him was nodding in agreement, never taking her eyes off the Magicat.

"Can you summon Arcanite Magician?" Sirius asked hopefully. "I wanted to see what it looked like."

"Umm," Harry turned to his deck. "Well, let's see...."

He knew the basics of synchro summoning, but he had never tried it, and he wasn't quite sure how it worked with the actual summoning. It wasn't exactly like the game - less complicated, and more taxing. "I think it was one tuner and -" he trailed away as the Magicat suddenly reached out, and snatched the deck from his hands. "Hey!" he cried indignantly, and then blinked as the monster started to shuffle through the cards with a determined look about its feline face.

A moment later, the Magicat held out four cards for Harry. The Magicat card, the Arcane Apprentice, the Night Wing Sorceress and finally the Arcanite Magician. As Harry looked at the cards, the Magicat made a motion with its paw, telling him to get on with it.

"Okay, um... let's see," Harry murmured. While Sirius, Hermione and Ron leaned in curiously, Harry took out the Arcane Apprentice and held it out. The summoning came out a bit easier this time, now that he knew how to actually do it. It was almost too easy, making him almost laugh with relief. It had been so darn hard at the Dursleys’ - but then again, he had been under the summoning restricting blood ward back then.

The Arcane Apprentice appeared without a hitch in a whirl of fire, wearing a concealing cloak that hid even its face. It bowed to Harry before nodding at the Magicat, and then the two waited for more. Feeling a bit awkward under their stares, Harry took the Night Wing Sorceress and summoned it as well, murmuring his thanks as the winged sorceress appeared, almost blowing him away with a gust of wind.

"This is unreal," Ron murmured behind him and Harry could hear Sirius let out a sort of agreeing choke.

"How do you feel, Harry? You said you got tired the last time..." Hermione said worriedly.

"The last time fledgling summoned a level seven monster on his first try without any sacrifices. It was a wonder it didn't knock him out," a familiar voice spoke from behind them, making Hermione let out a yelp and Ron mutter curses while Sirius spat, "God damn it, stop _doing that_!" and Harry didn't even bother to look over his shoulder, already knowing what he'd see. Ignoring the objections of the greater part of his audience, the King continued cheerfully. "It's much easier to summon low level monsters and then use them to get the higher levelled ones - the use of energy is balanced."

"So, it's easier to summon several lower level monsters than just one higher levelled one, even if the combined levels of the lower level monsters are equal?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Mutou agreed. "Though even the low level ones can have a bit of a punch after the fourth summon."

"Or the third one," Harry murmured, kneeling down to the floor as sudden dizziness hit him.

"You're new at this. You’ll get better in time," Mutou assured. "The more you summon, the easier it becomes. Now, how about you try summoning the Arcanite Magician? It won't take any more energy from you as you already have your sacrifices summoned."

"Alright, um..." Harry eyed the Arcanite Magician card and then held it up. In unison, the three monsters he had summoned bowed their heads and vanished into shadows of various shades, which writhed and slithered together - and then dispersed as light begun spilling from the card Harry was holding. In a flash, the Arcanite Magician appeared, looking just like he had the first time Harry had seen him - white robed, blue skinned and impressive.

"Very good," Mutou said with satisfaction while Ron and Hermione stepped beside Harry to examine the monster, Sirius having already circled to the side to see the summon from all angles. The Arcanite Magician ignored them in favour of Harry, kneeling down before his summoner and bowing his head. Harry opened his mouth, but couldn't quite think of what to say. He had forgotten what it was like, to have a being so powerful bowing down on him.

"So, this is the guy who can destroy Dementors?" Sirius murmured, looking at Harry and then at Mutou. "How does it work?"

"The Arcanite Magician is a light oriented monster, and as such has powers that oppose those of dark oriented monsters. And Dementors are very dark, from what I've gathered," Mutou answered while Harry sat down on the floo, crossing his legs and eyeing the Arcanite Magician thoughtfully. The King, who was now sitting on the couch with his shadow sitting beside him, continued. "Also, the power of a summons is generally very destructive. When powered well enough, a monster can easily destroy any living creatures. And the Dementors were, in their own way, living."

"So the monsters could kill people too?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Yes," Mutou agreed with a nod. "But the unwritten rules of the DuellistKingdom are against it. My Court and I do not tolerate murder, and we like it even less when shadow monsters are used as its instrument. All summoners who use their summons against human beings are put through a judgement without exception."

"Judgement?" Harry asked, looking at the King over his shoulder. "All of them?"

"Yes," the duellist nodded, holding his gaze seriously. "There won't be any exceptions. Not even for you, fledgling."

"So Harry can't use summoning to fight You-Know-Who?" Ron asked, frowning. "What use is there of it then?"

"I never said anything about fighting," Mutou answered, folding his arms. "Self-defence and acts of protection are a different thing. If fledgling can use summoning to save people, he should. If summoning can save his life, he should use it. But if he attacks a human unprovoked and kills them with summoning, he will be judged and no doubt punished for it."

"So... I can fight wizards with summons, but not kill anyone?" Harry asked, frowning.

The King pursed his lips thoughtfully, glancing at the shadow beside him. Then he shook his head. "What matters is the intent, and the fairness of such a fight," he finally said. "Summoning was created for battle and warfare and trying to separate it from that is both foolish and useless. But the world today is different, the rules are different, and so are the beliefs. I can't and won't condone acts of barbarism and I will not tolerate it if you take your summons and use them to attack your enemies at random. But on a battlefield, where the odds are even and the fight is mutual..."

Harry frowned. "How will I know if it's alright to fight?" he asked worriedly.

The King smiled. "By trusting him," he said, and motioned at the Arcanite Magician. "You can never force a light oriented monster into an unfair fight. If he fights for you, the fight is merited."

The black haired wizard turned to his monster again, and found the Arcanite Magician nodding in agreement. Harry sighed and smiled. "I'll have to trust your judgement then," he said, making the Magician's back straighten a little, and the shade of his blue face turn a little darker with embarrassed delight. Harry grinned. Apparently Magicat wasn't the only monster easily abashed.

"It's best to always trust your monsters. They tend to have more experience," Mutou mused with a chuckle. "Well done, fledgling," he added. "You will make a great duellist yet. Now, how about you send the Magician home? It's rude to keep them when there is nothing for them to do."

"Alright," Harry nodded, before looking at the Arcanite Magician. "Thank you," he said. "You can go."

"This is really incredible," Hermione said, shaking her head as the magician vanished to whence it had come from. "You told us, of course, but I didn't think it would be like this. Really, Harry. This is amazing. I wonder how...."

"Aww, this is so unfair," Ron murmured beside her, folding his arms and almost pouting. "I want to learn how to summon too...."

"Be glad you can't. The payment can be severe," Mutou reminded, and as Harry turned to completely faced him and the others, trying to hide how giddy so many successful summonings made him. Mutou noticed, if the amused smile was anything to go by, but the man said nothing and instead turned to Sirius. "So, Mr. Black. Have you given any thought to summoning yet?"

"I have," Sirius admitted. "Harry's been helping me make a deck, but I haven't tried it yet."

"If you want, someone in the Court can help you," Mutou offered before getting a slightly mischievous look to his face. "The Enchantress, perhaps?" the man suggested grinning.

Sirius narrowed his eyes not noticing anything strange. "I want nothing to do with that crazy lady," he snapped.

"Of course you don't," Mutou smiled knowingly and then turned to look at Harry again. The man got a thoughtful look in his purple eyes, contemplative even. "It's about time I head back, I'm playing too much hooky as it is and my Regent will skin me alive if I don't get back and finish my work... but before I go, could I have a word with you in private, fledgling?" he asked.

"What? Why?" Sirius asked, immediately suspicious.

"Sirius, don't start," Harry said, shaking his head, and then glanced at his friends. "Guys, could you give us a moment?"

Hermione looked between him and Mutou and before Ron could answer, she took his hand. "Yeah, alright. We'll come back later. Come on Ron, Sirius. How about we go and see what we can make out of Harry's extra cards, hm?"

"Hermione, I want to hear what they have --"

"What? I don't want to leave Harry alone with that --"

"Come _on_ , you two," she said insistently and more or less dragged the pair of them away, closing the door firmly behind them and leaving Harry alone with the King of the Duellist Court and his shadow. Harry shot a fond smile after her, Ron and Sirius, before turning to Mutou and becoming serious once more. This was the first time Mutou had specifically asked to be alone with him, even if not the first time he had been. It had to be about something special.

"Mai admitted having visited you and, uh... jumping the gun, as it is," the man admitted while the shadow stood up from the couch and walking towards Harry - and then past him and towards the window at the other end of the room. Mutou looked after the shadow and sighed. "I gather she mentioned certain... things about me."

"Nothing I could make much sense off, she was sort of ranting," Harry answered and smiled as he realised the source of the man's discomfort. It was oddly pleasing to realise that even Yugi Mutou could get embarrassed by such small things like people taking about him behind his back. "There's no need to be embarrassed or anything. Really, I couldn't make much of it."

Mutou considered this for a moment and then nodded. "I suppose that is relieving to hear. I would still like to apologise. She can be... hot headed. And I imagine she sees me as a sort of little brother to her, so whenever something new happens, she tends to get all fired up."

"It's alright," Harry laughed. "If nothing else, it was fun watching her and Sirius go at it."

The King smiled faintly, still looking a bit uncomfortable but not as much as before. "I am sorry I missed it," he just said.

Harry answered the smile, and then felt it turn into a grin. "You know, I'm thinking your control over the Court isn't all that good," he said teasingly. "First Ryou Bakura and now Mai Kujaku, despite the fact that you apparently ordered them to stay away from me. Who should I expect next?"

Mutou shook his head, sighing while the shadow beside him laughed softly. "I'd like to say no one, but I suppose I can't. They're too curious about you. However if they manage to control themselves for a while, then the next one you will most likely meet is the Priest."

"The Priest?" Harry asked, frowning. He could remember _the Priestess_ card from Mutou's deck, so it probably made sense for there to be a Priest as well. "Why him?"

"Because when my Court decided on what aspects of the magical world they would study and examine, he picked Hogwarts," Mutou answered. "I imagine he is there even now."

"Oh," Harry murmured. _'Well, Hogwarts is a great part of the culture, so it makes sense I suppose. Still, it's kind of weird to think that one of the_ _Duellist Court_ _is skulking about Hogwarts even now.'_ He shook his head. "Alright. How will I know him, or should I just wait until he too decides to pop out from nowhere?"

The King got a slightly sad look to his eyes. "Don't worry. You'll know it's him the moment you see him," he said before standing up. "It's time we go," he said, glancing at the shadow who had left the window and was returning to the man's side. "Before that, though, I have a gift for you," the King added, and pulled out a small book from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He handed it to Harry, who accepted a little confusedly.

"What is it?" the wizard asked, examining the cover. The book was completely black except for a golden insignia of a stylish, Egyptian eye, embossed in the dark leather. He tried it with his fingernail. It felt like real gold.

"It's a book my Priestess wrote some time ago - everyone in the Court has it. We call it the Guide of Shadows, but you can call it whatever you wish," Mutou said. "It's an explanation about Shadow Magic, what you can do with it, and what it can do for you. I imagine that by now, you would want to know."

Harry frowned and opened the book. The table of contents showed three sections, the first was _History_ , next was _Use_  and last was _Effect_. Each one had several chapters. "Lot of chapters for such a small book."

"They're on the short side. My Priestess is a great story teller, but I'm afraid she's not the best of writers. Still, the book should explain some things to you," Mutou answered. "The change you're going through for one."

"So it's real. I _am_ changing," Harry murmured, frowning.

"Shadow magic matures you. It tends to have the strongest effect on the more badly damaged - and you are," the King said kindly. "Are you worried about it?"

Harry thought about it for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "Just curious, I suppose. I feel better now, and if this summoning stuff is the reason, then I'm all for it. Never noticed I _wasn't_ feeling good until it stopped being like that, though."

"It tends to be like that. People get used to their pains and aches over the time, and you have been experiencing them for a long, long time," Mutou said and sighed as the shadow beside him nudged his shoulder. "Yes, yes, time to go. I will see you again soon, fledgling."

"Alright. Thank you for this," Harry nodded, patting the book. Mutou acknowledged it with a nod of his own, before vanishing in whirl of shadows. Left alone, Harry turned to the book again. It was barely the size of an average journal. _'Well, big things come in small packages,'_ he thought, grinning as he thought of Mutou who was on the shorter side as well. Still smiling, he opened the book and started to read about the history of shadow magic.


	10. Court's Aide

When the time came to head back to Hogwarts, it happened with a horrible bustle, as the Order decided that Harry couldn't take a walk outside the house without being killed. While the students rushed to get their things and pack their trunks, the Order designed a guard ready for them. Harry ignored them and let them have their fun, not really concerned about the possible Death Eater attack. He had permission to use summoning in self-defence now - and the right to use magic where ever - and though the concept of being attacked by dark wizards wielding killing curses was no fun, he was prepared. He had even practiced speed summoning with Sirius, just in case. Magicat was starting to be pretty quick in his appearances.

"Still annoys me that I haven't managed to do it yet," Sirius murmured as Harry finished packing the extra cards away. The man was staring at his own deck with a glum expression on. "I've tried everything you said, and... nothing."

"The first time I managed, I did it to save Dudley's life," Harry said. "And the book says that some summons take special circumstances. And it might be that you got the wrong deck," he added with a crooked smile. "Some people are just incompatible with certain monsters."

"I suppose," Sirius murmured and shook his head with a sigh. "I'll get Mundungus to get me more cards, and try other sorts of monsters out, see what comes of it."

When the time came to leave, Sirius was there in his dog form much to the disapproval of Mrs. Weasley, but Harry welcomed the addition. If nothing else, it made the twenty minute walk to the station fun, watching Sirius running about, being a dog. Once they finally managed to get to the station, the Order members did all sorts of security checks and made sure everything was in order, and finally they passed through the barrier.

All Harry had to wonder about was why, when they took so much trouble making sure he could survive a walk, no one thought to secure the train itself. It was a nice big target after all - bigger than usual even, there seemed to be an extra car on the train - but no, no guard for the train. He opted to not say anything about it - because he feared if he did, they'd have to spend the whole ride sitting next to Moody or something. So instead he said his goodbyes along with the others, gave Sirius the dog a big hug despite Mrs. Weasley's gasps and objections, and told him to write if he got the summoning down.

"And find those damn two way mirrors," Harry added, before Mrs. Weasley finally shoved him into the train as it started moving.

"We ought to have made a phone for him too," Hermione murmured as they waved back to the platform, watching how it started moving and was left behind by the train. "We won't be needing them as much in the school, will we?"

"Should make separate detentions less of a drag, if nothing else," Ron mused, ignoring Hermione's indignant, _"Prefects aren't supposed to get into detentions, Ron,"_ and nudged Harry's shoulder compassionately. "He'll send the mirror to you as soon as he finds it, mate, don't worry. And if he doesn't, we can send one of our phones to him. Or make new ones once we get the chance to visit Hogsmeade."

"Or we can do more business," Fred suggested, patting their shoulders. "Keep in mind, kiddies, that we grown-up wizards --"

"Being old and grown up and incredibly talented," George added.

"-- can Apparate all over the country, if we want to," the first nodded. "And there is always some free space in our vault."

Harry smiled. "I'll keep that in mind," he promised and with a grin the two turned to leave. Shaking his head, Harry turned to his best friends. "Well, come on; let's find a place to sit."

"Um," Ron hesitated, frowning at Hermione. "I think we're supposed to go with the other Prefects."

"Yeah, in the Prefect carriage," Hermione nodded. "We're going to get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl - but I don't think we have to sit through the whole trip there, so we can come to sit with you later on."

"Oh, what am I now, a charity case? I can sit by me onesie, if I have to," Harry said with a mockingly imperious huff. "Have fun with the other teacher's pet pillocks while I find some cool kids to sit with."

"Oh, shove off," Ron muttered, punching Harry's shoulder and grinning. "See you later, mate."

"Yes, yes. Use the phones if something interesting happens," Harry said and then watched them leave. With a sigh he turned to his trunk not really feeling like dragging it around the train, looking for a place to sit. Then he rolled his eyes, realised he didn't have to and whipped out his wand. A moment later, his trunk was neatly hovering about a foot above the ground.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Ginny asked from where she had been trying to get a broken wheel at the end of her trunk to work. Shaking her head, she pulled out her wand and cast a levitation charm on her own trunk. "There. Now, come on, let's find a compartment and see if we can save the pillocks a place to sit."

"Sure," Harry nodded with a grin and with their trunks hovering after, they set out on their search. What they found, though, were a lot of people who were very interested in staring at Harry, a lot. Despite all the amusement Harry got from the propaganda the Prophet was spilling out, it started to get a bit annoying after the fifth compartment. However, what was more annoying was the fact that every place seemed to be full already.

"Why is it that we have to always be so late for the train that we can never find a place to sit?" Harry asked with annoyance.

"Tradition," Ginny said solemnly, closing yet another full compartment's door. "Important stuff, traditions."

"Sure. Like burning at the stake and hangings," Harry muttered, gaining a grin from her.

They found Neville Longbottom in the last carriage, also looking for a compartment - which was found soon after, only having one passenger. By Neville's reaction, though, she didn't seem like the type person he liked to hang out with.

"Don't be silly. Luna's alright," Ginny said, and pushed past Neville into the compartment. "Hello, Luna. Mind if we take these seats?"

The blonde girl, who had wide eyes and a wand stuck behind her ear, started at them for a moment before nodding. While Ginny thanked her and took her trunk inside, Harry eyed the blonde girl for a moment, not sure why he was getting the oddest feeling that he had met her before. Or someone very much similar to her. Shaking his head, he turned to hoist his and Neville's trunks up onto the rack, and then took a seat, figuring he had probably seen her in Hogwarts before.

"You're Harry Potter," the wide eyed Luna Lovegood said while Ginny tried to make small talk.

"Really?" Harry asked in answer, the word coming out almost like a reflex.

"Yes, I am quite sure," she nodded and blinked slowly. "Have you been someone else lately?"

"Not really, but I've tried very hard," Harry answered, grinning. Luna considered this for a moment before beaming back at him. "How about you?" Harry asked to be polite. "Been anyone else lately?"

"I tried to be a Jenny a few days back," the girl answered and shook her head sadly, going back to her upside-down magazine. "It didn't really suit me."

Harry's grin widened. "Tough one to be, Jenny," he agreed, before noticing the looks Neville and Ginny were giving him. "What?"

"I don't know whether I should back away from you or ask when exactly you've tried to be a Jenny," Ginny murmured, shaking her head and turning to a considerably saner Neville. "So, did you have a good summer?"

"Yeah, brilliant. Guess what I got for my birthday."

 _'Famous last words,'_ Harry thought a little later while using Scourfigy on himself to get something called stinksap off him. For some reason that made him wonder if any of the Duellist Court had yet run into something ridiculous in their escapades in the magical world. There were so many weird things wizards and witches did and had. Seeing the faces of the Duellist Court would've been priceless when they ran into stuff like dung bombs and such.

He was just giving his hair an instant wash with his wand when the compartment door was opened. While Harry Scourfigied his hair again, a nervous voice spoke up. "Oh, hello Harry. Um... bad time?"

"Neville, that thing is horrible," Ginny was laughing while cleaning her sleeves, which had taken the brunt of the stinksap attack. "You’ve got to show it to the twins, they'll get a kick out of it," she added when the boy with the horrible Mimbulus Mimbletonia slumped down. "You might even be able to sell some of the stinksap to them. They might pay a lot for it."

"I'll pay you _a lot more_ to _not_ show it to them," Harry said flatly while shaking his head to get the last of his sudden-spell-shower-water from his hair. "And yeah, the time's as good as any," he added to the unknown interrupter, pushing his hair back and away from his eyes before taking his glasses and pushing them on. He blinked, only recognising the voice when he saw the pretty face of Cho Chang. "Hello, Cho," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, um... I was just stopping by to say hi," she said, staring at him for a moment.

"Hi, Cho," Harry answered with a nod.

"Yeah. Hi," she agreed, looking between Neville and Luna and then giving him an awkward smile. "That's all. Bye, Harry."

"Bye, Cho," Harry said cheerfully back and as the door closed, he shook his head. "I do believe she thinks you're uncool," he noted frankly.

"I get that," Luna mused distractedly. "A lot."

"Sorry," Neville mumbled embarrassedly while hurriedly putting his stinksap spewing plant away.

Harry just laughed, not really caring. If nothing else, he had a funny tale to tell Mutou, the next time he saw the man. "Tell me, could you make that thing shoot that stuff at only certain people?" he asked curiously, thinking what Malfoy would look like, should the plant attack him. Or maybe Dumbledore. _'Fumbledore the Stink Lord,'_ he thought and grinned.

It wasn't much after they had finally cleared away all of the stinksap, that the food cart lady came by, looking a bit confused. "Ah, there you are," she said, as she noticed Harry. "You’re Harry Potter, right?"

"Um, yes?" Harry answered, a bit surprised. The food cart witch had never talked to him, except about what he would like to have from the cart, and he couldn't really figure out why that would change now - except… he frowned. Well, it was to be expected, with the whole quest to defame him that the Daily Prophet had going on, that some people would come to his face about it but he hadn't expected the people associated with Hogwarts….

"There is a man in the restaurant carriage, who asked me to bring you this," the woman said, turning to the cart and pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper.

"There's a restaurant carriage?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"Yes, brand new. This is its test run," the woman agreed, frowning slightly like she didn't quite know what to think about that. "It's not operational yet, however, it's only a test run," she added before looking at all of them and smiling. "Now, would you like something from the trolley, dears?"

Harry handed his money absently to Ginny and told her to get them something to eat, while looking over the piece of paper. And it was, surprisingly enough, paper and not parchment, sealed with a golden _sticker_ that had letters K and C overlapping each other in it. ' _Well, at least I know that it's not from a pureblood,'_ he mused. They'd never use paper, even one as fancy as this, and he rather doubted most wizards even knew what a sticker was. Shaking his head, he gently peeled the golden sticker off, and then unfolded the paper.

"Dear Harry Potter. I would like to extend you an invitation for a cup of tea in the Restaurant Carriage. There are things I wish to discuss with you about the matters of the Duellist Court. The Restaurant Carriage is the carriage second from the front of the train, and shouldn't be hard to find," the short note said. It was signed with "Yours sincerely, the Duellist Court's Aide."

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked curiously, as Harry quickly folded the letter again, before she could see what it said. "Who's it from?"

"It's from a friend of a friend," Harry answered, quickly closing the paper again with the sticker and then pushing it into his pocket. "I'm going to pop out for a while," he said while standing up and taking his money sack back from the girl. "Go ahead and eat my share, and if Hermione and Ron come back before I do, tell them that I should be back eventually. And if not, we'll see each other at the school."

"Wait, where are you going?" she asked in confusion, but he quickly slipped out of the carriage before she or the baffled looking Neville could ask anything else. Not wanting to explain, Harry glanced at the window and then headed towards the way they were going, wondering what sort of Court member he would meet this time. Court's Aide? He could only hope that it wasn't like the Court's Advisor - or at least not as bad.

He passed a lot of people on the way, but greeted only the ones who greeted him first, not really wanting to stop to chat with those who started with the words, "Potter, I'd like to ask you something…." Instead he apologised and rushed past them, figuring that he'd have more than enough time at the school to deal with their questions. He passed by Cho on the way, but thankfully she was talking with her friend and didn't notice him until he had passed her - and by then he could pretend he hadn't seen her.

When he finally came to the restaurant carriage, the doors between carriages closing behind him, it was a sudden, sharp relief. The noise of the students was cut off almost abruptly, making him wonder if he had been deafened for a moment. But no, it was only that the restaurant carriage was so much quieter than the others had been - making him wonder if there was a silencing spells at the doors or something.

There was only one person in the carriage, sitting at a square shaped table with an ice-cream sundae in one hand and a spoon in the other. To Harry's shock, the black haired youth didn't look much older than Harry himself was.

"You must be Harry," the youth said, smiling. It didn't seem to reach his eyes, which looked the wizard up and down thoughtfully. "You're a bit scrawnier than I thought. Come on, sit down. Do you want something? There's not much of a selection here yet, but there's tea and such if you want it." He spoke with a same sort of accent as Mutou did, but more casually.

"I could use a cup of tea," Harry agreed with confusion while walking to the table and after a moment of consideration sitting down across the youth. "You're… the Court's Aide?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Yep. Mokuba Kaiba's the name," the young man said, placing the sundae and the spoon down, and clapping his hands twice. With a pop, a house elf appeared next to the table. Harry gaped, hardly able to believe it. The house elf was wearing a white _uniform_.

"Bring a tea set for Harry here, alright?" the young man asked, and bowing the house elf disappeared again, only to return half a minute later with a silver tray loaded with tea pot, cups, sugar dish and even a plate full of pastries. "Perfect, thank you," the young man nodded, and, after giving the man an uneasy smile, the house elf disappeared again.

"How…?" Harry asked, glancing after the elf and then around them. "What is this?" he finally asked, too confused to try and word it any better. A perfectly new restaurant car, a Court member sitting there like he owned it, casually commanding a _house elf_? He didn't even know that the Duellist Court knew house elves existed!

"You don't like it?" the young man asked, glancing around. "Well, it came out a bit old fashioned, but the people working with me assured that trying to make it more, hm, efficient wouldn't go well with the paying population. The magical world is more adjusted to the way things _were_ , not the way they _are_."

"Wait, people working with you?" Harry asked, confused. "This car is _yours_?"

"Well… the paperwork is still going through," the young man shook his head. "Going a bit quicker than I expected, but still slowly. But in spirit, yes. Except, it's not just the car. It's the whole train. Come on, take some tea. It was brought for you after all."

Harry gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, making him chuckle, until the wizard managed to shake himself out of the shock. So, the Duellist Court had bought the train. Okay then. "Um, so, what did you want, Mr. Kaiba?" he asked awkwardly while reaching for one of the fine porcelain cups.

"Mokuba, please. Mr. Kaiba is my brother," the youth snorted, leaning back and reaching for his ice cream again. "And I didn't actually want anything, just to talk," he added, kicking his shoes off under the table and then lifting his legs up so that he sat with his knees bent close to his chest. Suddenly he looked a bit _younger_ than Harry. "With all this ruckus going on about you I couldn't exactly let the opportunity to pass, could I? Besides, brother wanted to me to test the waters, so to speak."

"Your… brother is in the Court too?" Harry asked while pouring the tea for himself. It smelled surprisingly nice.

"Yeah, obviously. He doesn't like to let people know, but he tends to worry after Yugi, and he hasn't been exactly happy about the way he has been monopolising you and not letting us meet you - and let me tell you, Ryou's tales about you are in no way reassuring," Mokuba said, shaking his head.

"That I can believe," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, I already know some things, of course. One doesn't meet people without running background checks," Mokuba said thoughtfully. "And I'm not really that worried about whatever your relationship with Yugi is - if him, Ryou _and_ their Shadows approve of you, then you have to be doing _something_ right," he snorted softly and shook his head. "That doesn't actually leave me with much to ask. Hm. Tell me about your deck?"

"I… don't know what to say, really. I'm still building it," Harry answered. "My main monster is the Arcanite Magician, though."

"And your deck master?" Mokuba asked curiously. "Main monster is the one you mostly centre your deck on, but the deck master tends to be the monster you summon the most. For Yugi, his deck master is Kuriboh, for example."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, amused as he recalled the monster which looked rather like a Puffskein. "I guess my deck master would be Magicat, then," he mused and shook his head. "Why are they called deck masters?" he asked. He couldn't really see how either Kuriboh or Magicat were in any way _master-like_.

"Being summoned the most, they tend to get to know you the best," the young Court's Aide shrugged his shoulders. "So in the end, they become your voice in your deck, the one the other monsters listen to. Oddly enough, every summoner's deck seems to have one."

"Hm. I guess that makes sense," Harry mused, thinking back to the times he had summoned Magicat with other monsters. The others did seem to take special care to greet the cat magician. "Why Kuriboh, though?" he asked with some disbelief. It didn't seem at all like a monster someone like Yugi would summon.

"Trust me, I have no idea. It's been like that since he started playing, I think," Mokuba snorted.

They talked a bit more about the cards and Harry's deck - Harry even got some suggestions about what cards he should try adding, as they went well with the monsters he already had. However, when Harry asked about Mokuba's deck, he found to his surprise that Mokuba didn't actually have one.

"My brother's been playing since we were little brats, but I never really took to the game," the long haired youth shrugged. "It was always more interesting for me to watch him play. I'm more of an arcade game type of player."

"Why are you in the Court then?" Harry asked, a bit confused.

"Because the Court needed a manager, just like any other organisation, and my brother can't do everything," Mokuba laughed. "Sure, I _can_ summon if I really want to, just like every other Court member, and I can use the Court cards, but I mostly choose not to. Unlike most of the Court members I'm not really required to do it, as I don't do the whole trouble-shooting thing the rest do. Well, except my brother, of course."

"You mean, dealing with the problems summoners have?" the wizard asked curiously.

"Yeah. I'm the one who takes in the requests and sorts them out by importance before handing them over to the other Court members depending on who is best equipped for the task, but I don't do problem solving myself," Mokuba agreed. "I'm kind of like the secretary of the Duellist Court, really. I worry about the things they  either don't have the brains for, or the time."

"Okay," Harry nodded, a bit relieved actually. Though the Court was obviously a powerful organisation, it was nice to know that they actually had a real structure and order, instead of being just the band of powerful, half deranged summoners it had at first seemed. "So, what about the train?" he asked then. "How does that fit into the picture?"

"Ah, it's a personal project, actually," Mokuba asked. "Did you know that there is only one magical train in existence?" he asked. "The Hogwarts Express is the only one; there is no other, anywhere in the world. It’s a bit of a waste, don't you think?"

"Well. I haven't really thought about it," Harry admitted.

"Well, give it a thought. Taking international Portkeys costs about a hundred galleons in British currency - and that's just to the continent. If you want to go to North America, it's closer to three hundred. Asia, it's about five hundred at the worst, and so forth," the young Court member said. "It makes travelling a bit difficult for those who know nothing about muggle methods, and even those can be pretty expensive."

"Okay, I guess that is a bit of a problem," Harry muttered, not really seeing what it had to do with the Hogwarts Express.

"Yes. And all along there’s this thing," Mokuba said, waving around them in a lazy motion. "The Hogwarts Express. Invisible to Muggles, perfectly comfortable, and most of all _cheap_. The train has been the way it is now for the better part of two centuries - and in that time it has needed to be repaired _twice_ , and only because it got hit in the London Blitz. Guess how many times this thing has been refuelled?"

"A few times?" Harry asked, confused.

"Not once," Mokuba grinned. "They have a small _Aswhinder_ colony powering the train, and the water tank has a charm which transports water into it from the HogwartsBlackLake without anyone needing to lift a finger. Every year since they put the first snake into the boiler, the company that owns the train has gotten a small bit of profit selling the snakes and their eggs."

"Huh," Harry muttered. He hadn't ever given the train much thought. Put like that, it sounded like a very wizard-like way to power a train. "Okay. So, what about it?"

"It's a brilliant model. Simplistic, old fashioned, but it works very cheaply. Now, throw in magic and lots of it," Mokuba said, making a motion with his hands like holding something between them. "Create Unplottable train tracks - not a difficult thing with a few talented wizards in your employment - and hijack some muggle rails unnoticeably, like they do with the express now. With an engine that never needs fuelling, a train that never needs repairing, you can go pretty damn far with very little cost. Add in some protective charms for good measure, and this sort of train can go underwater with no trouble at all."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You're going to create international railways?" he asked with disbelief.

"Seems like an interesting thing to make, don't you think?" the young Court member asked. "I could get people from one country to another a whole lot cheaper than Portkeys do, that's for certain. And people would probably enjoy it just for the scenery, too." He leaned back again while finishing the last of his ice-cream. "Of course it's still just a plan, and there's the current government to think about, not to mention the politics. But… in five years, ten years…" he grinned. "It's an idea, don't you think."

"Longterm plans you’ve got," Harry commented. It was a bit bewildering and rather exhilarating, actually, to see someone so young with plans like that. The wizarding world wasn't a place for new things, or so it had always seemed, but now Harry wasn't so sure - and it was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

"I'm still young. I’ve got time to wait," the youth grinned. "Besides, this is nothing compared to what my brother has planned," he added with a chuckle. "Your world was doomed the moment he saw Diagon Alley, trust me."

"Should I be worried?" Harry asked uncertainly. For a threat, it had been delivered rather cheerfully.

"Only if you don't like change," the young man said.

Harry headed back to the compartment where Ginny and the others were soon after that, but not before asking whether or not Mokuba had any plans for mobile phones.

"Not yet. Why?" the young man asked.

"Just asking," Harry grinned, and headed back.

Hermione and Ron had returned by then, and with them they had many horror tales about Malfoy the Prefect. _'Of course,'_ Harry rolled his eyes while sitting down, wondering whether it was the fact that Malfoy hated Harry or the fact that Malfoy the Senior had the money that had landed the ponce the position. Malfoy wasn't exactly virginally pure when it came to rules, hell; he broke them as much as Harry did. If Dumbledore had gone about it _right_ , he would've made Blaise Zabini the Slytherin Prefect, but Malfoy... it spoke volumes. Either Dumbledore was really going a long way to make Harry miserable this year, or he too could be paid off.

 _'Yay, go me. Of course he would go out of his way to make sure I'm miserable, because of course the world revolves around me. Idiot,'_ Harry mused, rolling his eyes at himself. Not that any of it mattered, really. Not anymore. Not only did it _not_ make him feel pretty much anything, Malfoy being a Prefect while he wasn't, but the concept that Malfoy could use his Prefect position against him… slightly irritating maybe, but far from important. Malfoy just didn't hold the candle to Voldemort, the War - and of course, Yugi Mutou and the Duellist Court. Hell, it was nothing compared to Mokuba Kaiba and his international magical railway plan.

Just wasting time thinking about something as meaningless as Malfoy made Harry feel oddly guilty and wish he was alone so that he could do something more worthwhile, like read the book he had gotten from Mutou.

"So, where were you?" Hermione asked once they were finished with telling about what they had seen and heard in the prefect's car.

"In the restaurant car," Harry shrugged. "I had a… meeting of sorts," he added with a lopsided grin. "I'll tell you about it once we get to Hogwarts."

"Can't talk in front of us?" Ginny asked with mocking defiance while Neville got an insulted look on his face and Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

"I could, but then I'd have to kill you," Harry said, making a wiggly motion with his fingers towards the redheaded girl. "It's super-secret stuff."

Thankfully the subject was passed with that, and they moved on to talking more about the Prefects, and what it would be like with Malfoy being one. Harry tried to pay attention to the subject, but the more he thought of it, the more amusing it seemed. Luna seemed to agree, laughing uproariously when Ron threatened to make Crabbe and Goyle write lines.

Of course Malfoy, being Malfoy, couldn't pass up the chance to come around and gloat about his new found power. While he did, threatening to put Harry in detentions and so forth, Harry wondered if Mutou's and Bakura's relationship was something like his and Malfoy's. _'Can't be. Bakura is something but he didn't seem like a complete git. And if he was like Malfoy, I imagine someone would've kicked him out of the Court him by now,'_ Harry mused.

"How does it feel, to be second best to Weasley?" Malfoy asked, smirking and eyeing Ron's Prefect badge.

"I've always been second best to him. Didn't you know? He's the brains of the operation. We were just fooling you to make you look stupid," Harry answered with a grin before anyone else could say anything. By the looks of Ron's, Hermione's and Ginny's faces, they would've loved to say something and Harry really didn't feel like giving Malfoy the satisfaction of actually making something big out of the whole Prefect thing.

"Funny," Malfoy rolled his eyes and sneered at him. "You watch yourself, Potter, I'll be... dogging your footsteps to make sure you stay in line."

"Aww, you’re going to be my doggy, Malfoy?" Harry asked, ignoring the possible taunt at Sirius and grinned even wider. "You want me to get you a nice meaty bone? Sorry, can only do that if you're a good little doggy." The words caused some chuckles from his side of the audience. "You need to do tricks," he added for extra measure.

"I think it's time you leave, Malfoy," Hermione said, trying not to laugh. "You have patrolling to do."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "I'll get you," he said to Harry before turning and sauntering off with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

"Bye bye, Doggy! Come back when you've learned new tricks!" Harry called after them. "I suggest trying the one about playing dead, it's hilarious at parties!"

"You're going to call him that all the time from now on, aren't you?" Ginny asked, laughing.

"Oh, yeah," Harry grinned.


	11. The Priest of Shadows

It felt like Harry had only just gone to sleep, when a hand on his shoulder woke him - and then a finger on his lips silenced him. His eyes snapped open and the immediate panic subsided as he saw the now familiar face of Yugi Mutou, smiling down at him. "Come," the man whispered, removing his hands. "I wish to talk with you."

Harry glanced around and then remembered where he was. Shaking his head at the thought that of course the King would want to wake him up on his very first night at Hogwarts instead of letting him sleep, he pushed the covers aside. As he stood up and reached for his robes, the King of the Duellist Court stepped back and around his bed to head back outside, leaving Harry to pull the robes on. Around the wizard the dormitory was silent, only the breathing of the other boys and Neville's faint snores sounding through the air as he took his wand and then crouched by his trunk to pull out his invisibility cloak, deck and the mirror-phone, just in case.

"Couldn't wait until morning, could you?" Harry asked while stifling a yawn, once they had stepped out of the dormitory and into the silent common room.

"I could have, I suppose," Mutou said, as the shadow became more visible in the light of the fire. "But I was a little too eager to see this place - we both were," he said, taking the shadow's hand and smiling. "And after hearing about your meeting from Mokuba, I felt it would be best if I introduced you to the Priest personally. I am… getting irritated with the Court acting on its own."

Harry glanced at him, stretching his hands. "There was no harm done, was there?" he asked, not particularly worried despite the man's tone of voice. He might not know Mutou as well as he would've liked, but he knew enough to know that the man wasn't particularly vengeful. No matter how annoyed he was, he wouldn't actually get angry - and he wouldn't punish the others for mere meetings.

"Not yet, though I cannot consider what Bakura did completely harmless," Mutou muttered, shaking his head and then smiling again. "In any case, I should've never considered it wise for you to meet the Priest on his terms. He is not like the others of my Court, and can be… difficult to handle, unless you understand certain things about him."

"So, you're here to introduce me to him?" Harry asked.

"That, and to see Hogwarts. I could've come here sooner, of course, but I wanted you to show it to me," Mutou smiled, as the shadow leaned against the man. "Could you be so kind?"

"Sure, but we need to be careful. If we're seen, I'll probably get detention," Harry said, yawning again and then motioning the man to follow him to the portrait and out of Gryffindor tower. Then, belatedly, he realised where they were. _In Hogwarts._ "Hang on. Did you come here the usual way?" he asked, turning to the man. "You used shadow travel, didn’t you?"

"Yes," Mutou answered, glancing out of the window. "I don't know how else I would've found you. This place is larger than _my_ castle is," he mused.

Harry considered for a moment asking him about him having a castle in the first place, and then decided against it, as it was fairly redundant. Most kings and courts had castles, didn't they? "Hm. I suppose it really is very different from Apparation and Disapparation. You can't use our ways of teleporting here - there are wards that block stuff like that," he said and stepped down the stairs to the portrait, and pushed it open. "Really makes me wonder how shadow travel works," he muttered, and carefully peered out. The corridor outside was empty, no soul in sight. "Looks clear."

"You seem very used to sneaking about, I see," Mutou noted with some amusement.

"Major part of my school life, trust me. I'm top of my class at sneaking," Harry nodded, and lead him down a corridor he knew wasn't that often patrolled. "I probably should lessen the sneaking stuff this year, though," he mused more to himself than to the man and thought back to the feast of the evening before.

"Why is that?"

"The Ministry put one of theirs into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position," the wizard answered, scowling. "I think she was at my trial too, though I can't really remember, Bakura kind of stole the show back then," he added and then shook his head. "It's part of that defamation campaign, I think. They're trying to make sure that Dumbledore and I can't say anything more about Voldemort, and so forth."

"Ah," Mutou mused and frowned. "I'll have my Court look into it, though I think Bakura did mention something like this," he said, folding his arms while the shadow beside him looked curiously at the suits of armour lining the corridor. "Might be best I let my Regent handle this, though. He has more experience with this type of thing," he said thoughtfully and then glanced at Harry. "What else happened?"

Harry smiled faintly, and told him about what had happened on the train, feeling a little smug as he managed to bring a chuckle out of the man and the shadow both as he told them about the stinksap. He told what he and Mokuba had talked about in length, apparently putting some of the man's worries to rest, before moving to the arrival at Hogwarts - which brought him to the invisible horses. "No one else but Luna seemed to see them," he said, frowning. "I thought at first it might be a summoner thing - that I can see them because I'm a summoner… but I don't think Luna's ever even heard of Magic and Wizards."

"Luna, hm?" Mutou asked, both him and the shadow raising an identical eyebrow at him.

"Luna Lovegood - she's a Ravenclaw one year below me," Harry answered. "Kind of… strange. Actually, she might be able to summon, now that I think about it. There's something off about her that made me think of Sirius, she feels the same."

"Hm. Your senses might be sharpening - summoners can usually feel each other's potential, when they've practiced enough. I will look into this girl. I suspect she won't be the only one here with the ability - something about wizards makes them more susceptible to the type of damage that makes summoners," Mutou mused. "Normal humans tend to recover before ever finding out about summoning, that's why there aren't so many of them. Of course, some never can recover, but a great many of them do."

"Wait, you could lose your ability to summon by, uh, recovering?" Harry asked, worried.

"Well, you couldn't. I couldn't. Once you start using shadow magic that's it, the magic stays with you and nothing can change that. The shadow magic becomes a permanent part of your soul, and the more you use it, the easier and stronger it becomes," Mutou said, reassuringly. "But wounds can heal without such aids as Shadow Magic, even the most severe mental and spiritual ones - and if they do before the person can summon, the person loses the potential. Of course, it tends to be a slow process of therapy, rehabilitation, mental and spiritual healing and such, but it can happen."

"So…. Even if I _recovered_ from the Killing Curse, I would still have summoning," Harry said, sighing with relief. "That's good to know."

Mutou smiled. "Nothing can take away your summoning, Harry," he said gently. "You've had it for weeks now. Even a few days after the first summoning is enough to make it permanent."

Harry nodded, reassured even though the idea of having foreign magic in his _soul_ was still an odd one. "Okay," he said, smiling.

Mutou nodded as well. "About those horses," he said, turning his eyes ahead and to the corridor. "It's most likely that they have something to do with some other type of magic. We have researched your magic and its many branches well enough to know that your people do not have shadow magic and your world has no shadow creatures in it. We expected it, of course, had we actually found some we would've been rather surprised, but we know for certain now."

"Hm. Okay. I will try and see if I can find out what they were," Harry nodded, and took a breath to start explaining about what had happened at the feast - about Professor Umbridge's speech which he had mostly forgotten already - when he heard mumbling coming ahead of them. Filch, said Harry's senses that had been honed by four previous years of sneaking about, and quickly he took Mutou's hand into his to drag him into nearby alcove, already pulling out the invisibility cloak.

The King gave him a confused look, but apparently he too had heard something as he said nothing while Harry quickly spread the cloak over them to hide them from plain sight. The shadow, left outside of the cloak, made a shocked sound and shifted closer, pressing his hand through the cloak as if fearing that they weren't there anymore. Mutou reached for his hand comfortingly, and then pulled him into the space between himself and Harry, so that the shadow was more or less pinned between them. The shadow, relaxing a little, looked between the curious Mutou and faintly grinning Harry with interest and confusion.

"Invisibility cloak," Harry mouthed silently to the both of them, and then held a finger over his lips to silence any possible questions. Soon enough Argus Filch walked past them, muttering under his breath about dunderhead students and detentions and thumbscrews. Mutou blinked after him with confusion, but both he and the shadow remained silent and still until the man had gone, and his steps faded away.

"He's the caretaker," Harry explained under his breath, while shifting from under the cloak to see that the man had gone and that there was no sign of his cat. "Looks clear."

"This device is interesting," Mutou said, still half under the invisibility cloak. "It truly makes you invisible. Where ever did you get it?"

"I inherited it. It was my father's," Harry grinned while the shadow leaned back to see the effect of the cloak again. "I'm sorry if I startled you," he added while accepting the cloak from Mutou.

"It's quite alright," the man assured him, shaking his head as Harry stuffed the cloak back into his pocket. "You wizards have the most interesting things."

"I guess so, sometimes," Harry agreed, and after another glance around the corridor, they continued on their way. "Does the Court have magical devices, other than the cards?"

Mutou looked at him with surprise, and then away again, frowning oddly. "No," he said slowly, touching his chest and then clutching his hand into a fist. "We used to. Seven items of incredible power - I had one of them, Ryou had another, and so on. But… no more."

Harry blinked with confusion - not at the words, but at the strange, bittersweet, half choked voice Mutou spoke of them in. The sight of the shadow hastening his steps so that he could catch up with the man and throw his arms around his shoulders in an obvious attempt at comfort only made it stranger. "What happened to them?" Harry asked carefully, half certain he wasn't allowed to know.

Mutou smiled at the shadow and shook his head. "I traded them," he answered, and straightened his back. "It's a long story. I'll tell it to you, one day when there is more light. It's not the story to be told in the middle of the night," he explained, lifting his hand and smoothing his fingers through the shadow's incorporeal hair gently. "Now, I think it's time we meet with the Priest," he said, stepping back from the shadow's embrace. Do you know a place where we could talk freely without any fear of being overheard or caught?"

"Yes, several," Harry said, giving the two of them a thoughtful look before glancing around. "There's an abandoned classroom over there, it hasn't been used in years. We can use that."

Mutou nodded and Harry led him and his shadow into the dusty room mostly filled with broken chairs and half-ruined desks and tables. Mutou locked the door behind them and after glancing around, he sighed. "Malik, would you please show yourself?" he asked, to the seemingly thin air, and as they looked around cautiously, a person appeared in the room in a flurry of oddly churning shadows.

Harry took an unconscious step back. Unlike all the other Duellist Court members, who had so far worn muggle clothes - albeit strange ones, in some cases - this person wore a cloak, and at the first sight Harry couldn't help but notice how similar it was to that of a Death Eater. Dark, long enough to cover just about everything about the person - enough to make them completely anonymous. But, as Harry took a longer look, he saw that the cloak wasn't completely black - just a very dark purple. And unlike Death Eater cloaks which as far as Harry could remember had a snake motif as clasps, this person's robe was closed at the front by a golden chain - and there was a symbol of a golden eye on the hood.

"Hello, my King. I didn't expect to see you here," the man in the cloak said, raising dark skinned, gold adorned hands and lowering the hood. He spoke with an accent different from that of Yugi and Mokuba - but it was definitely a foreign one. Harry blinked with surprise - despite the oddly sinister choice in wardrobe, the man was surprisingly young and nice looking. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Timing, my Priest," Mutou said, oddly formal and quiet. "Where is Marik?"

"Here and there," the platinum haired Priest answered and smiled. It was a strange expression, small and almost childlike and yet it sent a shiver down Harry's spine as suddenly the cloaked man's features stopped seeming so nice. "There are so many shadows and secrets - so many ghosts - in this place. I'm afraid Marik has gotten… a bit overwhelmed."

"I was afraid of that," the King answered, frowning. "Can you call for him?"

"Hm. If you're so sure, why not?" the Priest intoned, bowing his head almost mockingly - and then made the shadows in the abandoned classroom whirl.

"Malik and Marik are different from myself and the Pharaoh, and Bakura and the Tomb robber," Mutou said, turning to Harry while the shadows churned and the Priest crouched down to touch the floor - which was being painted black by the darkness all around them. "Their union works… differently, because they had a different start than the rest of us did."

"That's why… Marik can be elsewhere?" Harry asked curiously and a little worriedly. He hadn't gotten heebie-jeebies this bad even from Bakura's shadow - and that had been really unnerving.

"All the shadows can do that whenever they want to - but they are weaker away from us hosts and they are drawn to us," Mutou said, taking his shadow's hand into his own almost absently, and pulling the shade closer. "For the most part, in any case. Malik and Marik, though, they… aren't that fond of each other. They are more apart than they are together and it has caused some… well."

He stopped speaking as the shadows all around them suddenly pulled closer to the cloaked Priest - and then into a single point, into a figure. Harry swallowed at the sight of this shadow. It was… not exactly weaker, but not as corporeal as the Pharaoh or the Tomb Robber, but at the same time it was so much worse than they were. This shadow was _broken_ oddly, shattered here and there with holes where the shadow's upper arms and knees should've been - and the grin on the shadow was inhumanly large and oddly disjointed. It was like the parts of the shadow weren't actually connected to each other. The worst things of all were the eyes, though - insane and wide and _staring_ with a force that felt almost physical.

"Marik," Mutou said, while the shadow of the Pharaoh beside him seemed to turn darker just because of the other shadow's presence. "I take it you're enjoying Hogwarts?"

The disjointed shadow let out hissing laughter and all the horrible grin would've needed was fangs to turn it completely monstrous. "A thousand years of magic and all the darkness and secrets thereof. What's not to like?!" the shadow snarled in hideous amusement, making Harry almost step back with surprise as he actually heard it's voice. If it could be called a _voice_. "So much blood soaking these stones, so much death and torment - so many torture chambers. All the twisted history seeping out of this castle's pores… and ghosts, oh the power of death, it's ever so beautiful!"

"I'm glad you think so," Mutou murmured, while the shadow beside him let out a disgusted noise. "Do you think you can control yourself enough to behave here?"

"I'm always on my best behaviour, my sweet, kind King, don't you know that?" the shadow hissed, and then suddenly jerked forward, breaking apart into twisting shreds of darkness, before reappearing right in front of Harry. "This is the one, then? The one, the one. Not very fun at all, are you - all solid and such. I wonder what kind of soul you have - what makes you special," the shadow snarled, grinning and wafting Harry's face with oddly hot air. "Bring out your soul, boy, I want to see the _rot_ in it."

"Maybe later, thanks," Harry said and made an attempt to push the shadow back. In all honesty he didn't think it would work, as the shadows weren't exactly physical as far as he had observed… but as he reached out, the shadow let out a shrill yelp and suddenly shattered apart again, the edges of the darkness hurriedly peeling back and away from his fingers.

"How impolite!" the shadow hissed, suddenly sinking into the floor and drawing into the corners of the room - all around them and not even pretending to have any substance. "Keep your light to yourself, brat - some of us enjoy the shadows, you know!"

"Marik," Mutou scowled, while his shadow shifted closer to Harry, looking at him with wide eyes. "You should know better - but, in case you have _forgotten_ , I will remind you to keep your tendrils in check. Especially in this case." He turned to Malik, who was kneeling on the floor, chuckling softly. "Try and control him, Malik. If you can't, I'm going to have to insist you return to the castle."

"Oh, not the castle!" the shadow around them jeered. "Mercy, my King, mercy, we'll be good! We promise not to bother your little boy-toy!" with that said, the shadow seemed to explode around them with breathless, hissing laughter.

"Shut _up_!" Malik the Priest snarled back at the mass of writhing darkness, and suddenly the shadows froze, tendrils staying still in the air and looking, for a moment, rather like smoke. Then, as the human part of the odd companionship pushed himself to his feet again, the shadows withdrew like water into a drain, vanishing into the corners of the room. "I'll control him," Malik said to Mutou, wiping a slightly shaking hand over his forehead. "He can't do much anyway - he's getting weaker each day. All he can really do is whirl around and cackle - which isn't much use since no one can see or hear him."

"Except us fortunate few," Mutou sighed, looking at Harry thoughtfully. "You could hear him?" he asked.

"Clearer than the others, yeah," Harry nodded, still shivering slightly. His hand felt weird, and absently he tried to rub some feeling into his fingers. "Why? I get that he's different, but…."

"He's trying to feed off on Hogwarts magic to become stronger," Malik said, frowning at him. "It hasn't worked until now."

"Why not?" Harry asked, not really sure if he liked where this was going. He had thought the shadows were like ghosts bound to certain people - but this Marik… he seemed a bit too much like the shadow form of Voldemort for Harry's comfort. "No, why is it working now?"

"Who knows? Because there's people in the castle - because the King is here. Because _you_ are here. Or maybe he just did it by accident. It could be anything. It won't make any difference though - Marik can't hold onto anything, not his own power and certainly not the power of someone else," the Priest said, and straightened his back. He took a deep breath and returned to his previous composure - creepy smiles and all. "If we're done with this lovely reunion, perhaps I could now go back to sleep, my King - or did you have something else to bother me with?"

"Nothing for now. I only wanted Harry to see you. But know that if anything happens to him while he's in Hogwarts, I will hold you and Marik responsible," the King answered. "Do you understand?"

"Better than you do, my King, I assure you," the Priest answered, and with still slightly trembling hands he pulled out a deck from somewhere inside his dark purple cloak. "Here, princeling," the dark skinned, platinum haired man said, handing a Court card over. "Keep it close at hand and call for me if anything is afoot. Marik and I will… take care of all your troubles."

"…Thanks," Harry murmured, taking the card somewhat grudgingly. It felt hot in his fingers, and he was unsurprised to see that it was titled _the Priest_. The picture on it was somewhat confusing though - a strange rod with an eye symbol. For some reason, it looked rather sinister - or maybe it was because card felt sinister. Grimacing slightly, Harry put it away among the other Court cards he had - pretty certain he would never actually use it.

"Good," Mutou said. "You may go, Malik."

"Why thank you, my King. Please enjoy the rest of your night," the Priest said, bowing again and vanishing - pretty much the same way his insane shade had, sinking into the shadows and, by the looks of it, just becoming part of them.

"I… don't know whether I liked that guy all that much," Harry admitted.

"By nature Malik and Marik aren't exactly likeable," Mutou sighed. "Both of them are a little too broken to seem all that… normal these days. And they don't bother with trying."

"Why hasn't shadow magic healed them?" Harry asked confusedly. If shadow magic could repair his who knew how many issues, why were Malik and Marik, who had probably been doing shadow magic for years, still so… disjointed? Wasn't shadow magic supposed to cure that sort of things?

"Because they resist it. Malik and Marik have the potential of being united - they were born joined and lived as a single person before they were ripped apart. Shadow magic is even now trying to reunite them, to make them whole again. But it's the last thing they want, so they fight it tooth and nail - and in so doing, they get a little more broken," the King shrugged his shoulders and pulled his own shadow close, and to his chest. It looked strangely like he was a child hugging a teddy bear - which, all things considered, was most likely the most ridiculous mental image Harry had ever gotten.

"Why don't they want to be reunited?" the wizard asked after a moment, wondering what about the whole ordeal had disturbed the King of the Duellist Court so much. Something obviously had. Maybe the whole thing, actually. Harry himself was certainly more than slightly creeped out.

"Because for each other they are what they most hate about themselves - what they consider weaknesses. In their own way they both consider themselves perfect without the other, so… for them, joining is out of the question," the King said, ducking his head a little and pressing his cheek against his shadow's hair for a moment, like drawing strength from the shadow - who seemed more than willing to share it.

Then, finally, Mutou raised his head and seemed more like himself again. "Come on. I think it's time for you to return to your dormitory," he said.

"I thought you wanted to see Hogwarts?" Harry said quietly.

"I do, but this turned into a quite uncomfortable night. There will be other nights for sightseeing," the King sighed, releasing his shadow, who remained pressed to his side, arms still around him. Mutou smiled at the shadow kindly before looking at Harry. "You have classes tomorrow, yes? You need your rest."

"Yeah," the wizard agreed quietly and together they turned to leave the empty classroom. They walked most of the way in silence, with the shadow of the pharaoh hovering about the both of them, mostly around Mutou.

"Do you think I will ever hear the other shadows? Marik was very… clear, but I can only hear the others vaguely," Harry said, as they walked the last flight of stairs up.

"I do not know. Perhaps. I will look into it in any case. If Marik has managed to figure out a way to draw strength from normal magic, then I need to investigate that as well," the King said, as they stopped by the portrait opening of Gryffindor tower. "I will see you later. I'm not quite confident about leaving you completely alone here with Malik, so I believe I will visit often."

"Alright, I'll look forward to it," Harry nodded, a little relieved now. He didn't want to be left alone either, without another summoner except for Malik nearby, with Marik roaming the school like some sort of overblown poltergeist. "One thing though, before you go. I'm your, uh… _boy-toy_?" Harry asked, smiling faintly, not quite sure what to think about that. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to think about _any_ of it, actually.

The King ducked his head, flushing slightly. "I will kill my Regent," he said sternly. "I believe he coined that lovely… concept. Please pay no mind to it."

"I think I like it better than _princeling_ ," the wizard snorted, shaking his head. "But you haven't even bought me any flowers," he added, trying for humour. "Or taken me out."

"I took you to the other side of the world, didn't I?" Mutou asked defensively, oddly awkward considering how calm and collected he usually was.

"Yes you did. For _burgers_ ," Harry said and grinned, now actually amused. Who would've thought the King of the Duellist Court could look actually sheepish. He certainly hadn't. Grinning wider, Harry shook his head again "You're a pretty a bad date, my King."

"Yugi," Mutou said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Call me Yugi. Most of the Court does, so you should too."

"Yugi, then. Does this mean you will stop calling me _fledgling_?" the wizard asked, giving the man a look, his grin fading. Suddenly, he wasn't sure how much of the conversation was a joke and how much of it was actually real. "I should, uh…" he motioned at the portrait of the Fat Lady - who seemed very curious about the conversation going on before her.

"Yes. You should. Goodnight fled - Harry," the King nodded. "Take care."

"You too… Yugi," Harry nodded, and watched as the man stepped back slightly, taking the hand of his shadow. Together the two of them vanished in a whirl of shadows, much like Marik and Malik had, and yet nothing like it. Yugi and the pharaoh, at least, didn't break apart and just seep into the stone work - they actually went somewhere, instead of hovering around like creepy fog.

"Well, Mr. Potter," the fat lady murmured, grinning at him from her frame. "Well, well, well…"

"I'll get you a bottle of wine from the portrait of six drunken warlocks, if you keep this to yourself," Harry promised quickly, flushing bright red.

"Well, when you ask so nicely," she smiled. "But I expect juicy stories later - and pictures, if you take any."

The wizard coughed awkwardly. " _Mimbulus_ _mimbletonia_ ," he said, and winking outrageously the portrait swung open for him. Quickly he scurried in, fully intending to bury himself in his bed and let the whole mess of the night sort itself out in the morning - when he wasn't sleep deprived and still creeped out because of Marik and Malik. Hopefully, anyway.

 

* * *

 

The first day of classes could've been bad, very bad. Over half of the school believed the stuff the Daily Prophet had been spewing out all summer, and the other half were still indecisive about whether they believed it or not. Many in Harry's class were treating him weird because of it and giving him odd looks while whispering behind their hands to their mates. Some were even openly judging him for it, calling him a fraud when they knew he could hear perfectly well.

It could've been bad - if Harry had really cared. Actually, he probably would've been amused by the whole thing - if he hadn't been jumping at shadows and getting constantly distracted by what Mutou - what _Yugi_ had said. Or not said but sort of not denied when Harry had said it. Or something. He didn't even know and it was bugging the hell out of him. In the end, he decided to just try and ignore the whole thing - whatever he had imagined had happened probably hadn't and he was just being a suspicious git trying to think something had.

And then, at lunch, Hedwig happily delivered him a single red rose, striking Harry speechless with mortification while around him the rest of the Gryffindors - those who doubted him and those who believed him alike - stared at him suspiciously, some smothering sniggers and a few pointing out the scene to their friends. It wasn't every day a bloke got a rose in Hogwarts.

"Aww, ickle Harry-kins gots a flower! He's got a special someone somewhere sending him lovely little rosies!" the twins cooed and then shared a look. "Wait -- does this mean Harry-kins has a special someone - when we don't? Fred, do you believe --?"

"I do, my dear George, I do indeed," the twin on the left wailed. "Fred, my dear and most beloved bother, we have been outdone by this messy haired upstart! We must go out and --"

"Get special someones of our own to send us lovely rosies, yes, indeed!" George nodded, as they clasped their hands together dramatically. "I shall get a special someone with lovely rosies, or my name isn't a Weasley!"

"Who's it from, lover boy?" Ginny asked, ignoring the twins and grinning over the table as Harry gingerly accepted the rose from his owl - only to find to find that the flower wasn't.

"It’s paper," he muttered with surprise, turning the carefully made rose in his hand with a mixture of absolute mortification and fascination. The entire thing was made of paper - the stalk, the leaves, the rose itself. Somehow it still looked incredibly convincing, so much so in fact, that one could've put it amongst real roses and not been able to tell the difference without checking.

There was no message though, no note, nothing. At first he wondered if his original assumption was wrong, after all, there was no way to tell from a single rose - but, then again… it wasn't like he had demanded flowers from just anyone. Only Yugi Mutou, actually - and yeah, when Harry thought about it, he was pretty sure Yugi would've never sent anyone actual roses. It wasn't that he couldn't imagine the man buying them or sending them because of some moral dilemma - no, Yugi Mutou wasn't the type of man to get overwhelmed by his sympathy for plant life.

He was the sort of man who kidnapped a guy he had just met, more or less, to Japan with him just because he wanted a certain type of burger. Sending normal roses was just, well, too normal for someone like Yugi. Too easy.

Harry smiled despite himself, turning the rose in his hand. Then he quickly smothered the expression and frowned instead. He wasn't about to trample on his own reputation by getting mushy over a paper flower.

"So, so, so? Who's it from? Don't keep us in this horrible suspense, Potter, you know our blood pressure can't take it!" the twins said in perfect unison.

"It… it doesn't say. It's probably just a joke," Harry answered them and the people still watching curiously, and moved to put the rose into his book bag, seemingly without care but taking quite a bit care not to damage it.

"You know, origami is usually made from a single square sheet of paper," Hermione said. "One could easily write a message on a rose like that before folding it into the shape of the flower. You should check it."

"I'll… I'll check it later," Harry answered, throwing a look around the table. "So, how was everyone's summer?" he asked hopefully.

"I do believe Harry-kins is trying to change the subject," Fred gasped.

"That sneak!" George said in wide eyed horror. They shared a solemn look before making a lunge for Harry's pack, wrenching it from his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Harry yelped, and then flushed as George pulled the rose out again. "Oi! You break it, and I will break you! In multiple pieces so tiny they will have to use a magnifying class to find you!"

"Oh, hoh, ho! I do believe it is not so unimportant after all," Fred grinned.

"Oh no, indeed, I do believe it might be quite valuable to our dear little Harry-kins," George nodded, holding the rose up. "Quite valuable indeed! Well then, Harry-dear-old-boy. What shall you do to get this back?"

"Blast your arm off?" Harry asked, reaching for his wand, intending to just summon the rose back and put it somewhere more secure this time - into his pocket maybe. An inside pocket. A reparo charm should fix it if it got damaged - and if not then he would apologise to Yugi and tell him what happened. And then make him promise not to send another one, and definitely not to the Great Hall if he did get the notion to do it anyway.

Before he could summon the rose, however, it was plucked from George's fingers by plump fingers and nails painted pink. "Well then, what’s this?" an overly sweet voice asked, and the humour vanished from the twins' faces, as they whirled around to see Professor Umbridge behind them, smiling at them. "What lovely craftsmanship. Is this yours, Mr…" she looked George up and down, her smile widening. "Mr. Weasley?"

"It's mine. I would prefer to get it back, if you wouldn't mind, Professor," Harry said, slowly standing up.

Umbridge's smile faltered slightly before returning, twice as wide and twice as sweet. "I'm afraid I must hold onto this. This does not pertain to school work in any way, I believe," she said, closing her fist tightly around the paper stem of the rose. "I might give it back once the school year is over. For now, children, I believe you should be heading to your classes."

"But Professor - the rose is a letter," Hermione said, making Harry almost groan. "Students are permitted to receive letters at dinner times; it's in Hogwarts rule book."

"A letter? It doesn't look anything like a letter," the woman answered, looking down at the rose and then letting out a sound that maybe, in some weird alternate dimension, was a laugh. "Tut, tut. I do not appreciate being tricked, Miss…" she looked at Hermione and narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Granger, Professor - and the rose really is a letter. The flower unfolds into a sheet of paper --"

"Hermione!" Ron hissed at her while tugging at her shoulder, but the damage was already done. Umbridge looked absolutely delighted.

"No, I do believe you are mistaken - it's obviously just a trinket," she said, even while eagerly tugging at the rose, forcing it to unfold. Harry watched with horror, his wand in his hand - trying to decide if he should try and summon the rose, or just send a fire spell at it to make sure Umbridge couldn't read it… when suddenly the rose just dispersed in the woman's hands, turning into a thin wisp of black smoke which vanished before she even seemed to realise it was gone.

"What?!" she gasped, staring at her suddenly empty fist. "What - where did it - what kind of trickery --"

"A security spell, I imagine, stopping the wrong people from reading private messages," Professor McGonagall's voice came from behind Harry, making him glance backwards. For a moment Harry thought she had hit the rose with the spell and destroyed it, but she looked a bit too surprised to have had done it. "Well then, no matter. Professor Umbridge, I believe we have a staff meeting in ten minutes? We should be on our way."

"Yes. Yes of course. Lead the way, Professor," the pink clad woman said, throwing a narrow eyed look at Harry who quickly lifted his hands in surrender - only belatedly realising that he was holding a wand and could've just as well said out loud that he had done it. Umbridge's look turned into full glare, but she followed McGonagall without another word, though obviously making notes in her head.

"Okay, that was… interesting," George murmured and threw a grimace at Harry. "Sorry, Harry, old boy. We didn't notice her - or know what a magnificent bitch she is."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have…" Hermione gave him a sorrowful look.

"It's okay," Harry assured them, sighing and lowering his wand again. "I'm sure whoever sent it can send another one," he added. If the rose had had shadow magic attached to it, then Yugi would probably know it had dispersed - the Guide of Shadows said that the shadow magic's user was connected to all magic he did with the shadows, as all the magic came from the soul.

"So, you know who it was from, after all?" Ron asked, grinning. "Someone we know, maybe?"

Harry gave him a look and rolled his eyes. "Never mind," he said, putting his wand away. "I need to learn that trick he used on the rose, though," he said then thoughtfully, thinking about how the rose had just dispersed into a whisk of shadow when Umbridge had tried to open it. It would be useful as hell, when sending messages to the Order and to Sirius - and making sure it would be Sirius who got to read it and no one else. He needed to look through the little book about shadow magic again - if the trick was in it, then he would make it his priority….

"He?" the twins asked in unison, now grinning again. "The secret special someone sending you lovely little paper rosies is a _he_? Well, well, _well_ , Harry-kins!"

"Oh, just go to hell, both of you," Harry groaned, flipping them the bird before snatching his bag from Fred and marching away, muttering to himself.

What an auspicious start for the school year.


	12. Paper Schemes

Yugi didn't visit him that day or send him another message - but when Harry woke up the next morning, there was a paper rose sitting on his bedside table. Harry didn't try to figure out how to open it immediately, instead going about his morning rituals and getting himself ready for the day, spending nearly half an hour in the bathroom before sitting down and examining the rose. It was identical to the first one, as far as he could see anyway, but then he hadn't had the first one for longer than a couple of minutes.

He turned the paper flower in his hands, not sure if he wanted to open it or not - because as amused as the twins had been about the whole thing, and as supportive as Hermione and Ron were and all that, he still didn't know what to think. Thankfully they had more or less kept it to themselves and as far as Harry knew it wasn't like the whole school knew, but a fair bit of the Gryffindors were now giving him even more weird looks. It was the whole supportive thing had thrown him for a loop most of all, though - especially when it had come from _Ron_. Ron didn't usually do supportive that well, and yet….

"Well, you know the Mutou guy kind of gives me the creeps, with the way he pops in and out, but, you know. You got to do what you got to do," the redhead had said, before going on musing, "I'm pretty sure Charlie is into blokes too. He's never said anything, but you know. He's never had a girlfriend, and he's been living with this bloke for a couple of years now. Still won't come right out and say it of course, because Mum's, you know, asking for grand kids and all, but you know." In general, the talk had been horrible, and awkward and so nice and full of _you know_ s.

Hermione had been pretty nice, too. In a very Hermione-like way. "Well, it explains a few things, of course - last year for one. I kind of always wondered what was the deal with you, Fleur and Gabrielle - I mean, two pretty Veelas indebted to you and you did what, exactly? Not a thing," she nodded knowingly. "And of course the whole thing is _perfectly_ natural. It's all over history - ancient Egypt famously had homosexuals, and ancient China --"

In the end Harry had escaped without trying to even bother explaining that he wasn't, at least he didn't think he was - he had never even thought about it - and really it was Marik's fault and Yugi was probably only trying to be funny because seriously, there was _nothing going on_ , really! Except he hadn't actually told Hermione or Ron about Malik and Marik because he was trying not to think about it himself - that somewhere the Priest of the Duellist Court was flickering about like a wisp of the most sinister smoke one could imagine.

In competition for scariest guy, Malik and Marik would've kicked Voldemort's arse. Merlin Harry hoped they would never meet.

But that wasn't the point.

In the previous day Harry had tried really hard to get distracted by talk about OWLs and summer holidays - he had even gotten into a couple of debates on how bad a fraud he was and so forth, which had been interesting. He wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to avoid thinking about, though, Yugi or Malik or everything, but it had worked pretty well - just as long as he had gotten away from the twins and Hermione's long lecture about how in some tribes in some distant place homosexuals were actually revered. It had been horrible.

Harry had actually been a bit grateful that Yugi hadn't shown up that night - that he had been given the chance to mull over his thoughts in private, trying to figure out what the hell was going on now. It had made him wonder what had been in the rose, what kind of message - but he was sure Yugi knew he hadn't gotten the chance to read it, so he didn't feel too guilty for missing it - or the fact that he was maybe slightly happier not knowing, perhaps.

He should've known better than to think that the morning would bring any clarity - it never did.

Sighing Harry turned the second rose in his hand, before taking hold of the rose's twisting petals, and carefully tugging here and there to see where the rose would safely unfold. In the end it opened with shocking ease, just spreading open in all directions and revealing the small patch of writing nearly in the middle of the dark red paper. Smoothing the paper as much as he could and fairly certain there was no hope of returning it into its rose form, Harry held the paper up to read the small text.

"Malik graciously informed me of the incident in the Great Hall. I apologise if the first rose caused you some embarrassment - I will make sure to deliver the rest more privately," the message began. "I am currently busy in France - there has been an incident with a young summoner - so I might not be able to see you for a couple of days. However, one of my Court will see you soon - in a matter concerning finances, I believe." The letter was signed with, "Yours sincerely, Yugi. Ps, I hope you like the roses. It took me some trying to learn how to make them."

Harry let out a small sigh, smiling despite himself. Go figure. All that worrying, and the message wasn't even remotely romantic. He twisted the paper in his fingers awkwardly, trying to put it back into the rose shape. He couldn't help but wonder though. What if it had been? What if Yugi Mutou, the King of Duellist Court, had send him a romantic message? What then?

He shook his head. Better he hadn't, he decided, and instead concentrated on another part of the message. A matter concerning finances? That probably could mean only one thing. It had been almost thirty days since the trial - which meant that the Ministry should've delivered their fifty thousand galleons by now. And, with Harry in Hogwarts and unable to access Gringotts to arrange the money transfer, Bakura was probably coming to attend to it personally.

"Merlin," he muttered. He had no idea why but the idea of Bakura, Malik and their respective shadows in the same building was making him wish he could file an instant transfer to Beauxbatons.

Then he remembered that Yugi was in France - as was Beauxbatons - and if he transferred, they'd be in the same country again… and resolutely stopped thinking.

 

* * *

 

Umbridge was, beyond doubt, the worst teacher Harry had ever had.

"Wands away!" she started her every class - after demanding they greet her in unison like some sort of military regiment. Harry was half expecting her to demand a salute to go with it, maybe a bow and raised hat and ten wand-salute - though, that would've been difficult what with the whole concept of them not using wands. In their _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ lessons.

The Ministry certainly had an odd way of showing how much they cared for their students.

Though on the other hand, maybe that was it - they didn't and now they were trying to drive them insane with the insane drivel their highly beloved Professor Delores Bloody Umbridge called _lessons_. The levels of frustration in her classes after she went all "Do you expect to be attacked in my class?" and, "There are no dangers out there" and, "Well, you are not in the real world, are you? You're in _school_ and nothing dangerous will happen here."

In a few short days, she became more hated than Voldemort in the school which, when one thought about it, was a fairly impressive feat. Though, considering that everyone thought that Voldemort was dead and all, maybe not so much. It really made Harry wonder what Fudge and the Ministry were really thinking. Obviously the government was interfering with the school, but seriously. Umbridge was systematically sabotaging the education of every student in the castle, not only by not teaching but also dismantling what they had been taught previously.

 _What were they thinking_? That they didn't need future generations to know anything about defence - because obviously none of them would ever take such positions as Auror, or Hitwizard, or Obliviator, or anything of the sort? Though considering the way the Ministry of Magic had been going all summer, maybe that was really it.

It was like they wanted to be taken over.

Harry sighed to himself while jotting down another squiggly line, pretending to be taking notes about Umbridge's drivel about this and that theory of this and that thing that would apparently never happen to them. He had to wonder what the Duellist Court was seeing as they ran around the magical world. Harry had been part of it for over four years and he seriously liked the place - but even he had a hard time trying to find anything good about most of what they did. The sheer inanity was pretty hard to defend. Not just from the government - but mostly from the people, for allowing it to happen.

As he let his attention stray, jotting some random sketches to the side of his notebook and not really even trying to pay attention, he missed the start of it. Only as the students in the front row gasped, he raised his head to notice that there was something white on the floor around Umbridge's desk. Blinking and adjusting his glasses, Harry sat up straighter and watched with odd, frozen fascination as simple paper flowers, all white from the stem to the petals, started popping up from the floor, spreading all across the aisles between the desk, mostly surrounding the teacher's mahogany desk.

"What - what is this?!" Umbridge gasped, noticing only after half of the classroom was covered. By then, the simple flowers, which looked rather like daisies, were climbing up the sides of her desk and onto it. "Oh, this is absolutely ridiculous - whoever is doing it may rest assured - I will --" Umbridge stopped talking, and instead pulled out her wand to blast away the first flower that had the audacity to bloom on top of her desk.

Gasps ran through the class, as the flower shattered into dozens of smaller flowers, which floated all around the room and then began blooming twice as fast where ever their landed, popping flowers all around. Umbridge cursed and blasted another flower and another, only making the situation worse and causing the students hurriedly to evacuate the front rows in order to avoid being hit - or flowered. Aside from them, everyone sat frozen and fascinated as the teacher's face went through several shades of colour before settling on red, as she tried and failed to contain the flowers.

"Finite! _Finite_!" she yelled, but each flower that was hit with the spell only popped into a cluster of smaller ones. "This is outrageous! Whoever is doing this will get a month's worth of detentions!"

A smothered snicker sounded to Harry's ears, just as Ron learned in, grinning widely. "You didn't, did you?" the redhead asked.

"Didn't, I most certainly didn't. I wouldn't even know where to begin, charming something like this," Harry answered, taking one of the flowers and eyeing it. It wasn't origami - it had been cut and wasn't made of a single sheet of paper. It was kind of clumsy too, so he was fairly certain that Yugi couldn't be behind it. Not that Yugi would've set up something like this in a classroom - the man was smarter than that and had promised, sort of, not to embarrass Harry any further.

But there was something odd about the flowers. Something just… felt off.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Don't look at me," she answered, picking up a couple of flowers too. "They are excellently charmed. I don't know spells for something like this."

They shared a look. If Hermione didn't know it, it meant that it couldn't be anyone from their year level, or the one above it. "The twins?" Harry asked. As seventh years, they probably knew more than enough replication spells.

"Might be their way of apologising for the rose incident," Ron snorted and glanced around them, as the paper flowers bloomed on every horizontal flat surface, growing out of desks and chairs and theory books. Some of the others students were picking the flowers too, a few of the girls letting out delighted sounds at them, some going as far as to gather them into small bundles.

It was actually oddly charming, in a way. A class covered in white flowers. Harry had seen worse pranks.

Then Umbridge noticed him, holding the flower. "Mr. Potter!" the woman growled, ripping a handful of the paper flowers from her desk and brandishing them at him as if they were a weapon. "I suppose you think that childish tricks such as these are funny. That you would get a little _vengeance_ for the insipid little paper rose. I am, however, forced to inform you that you are not at Hogwarts to play tricks. This is _not_ your personal playground, no matter what you're accustomed to! Detention, Mr. Potter, every weekend for the following four weeks!"

Harry looked at her over the paper flower he was holding, narrowing his eyes. He could tell without much trouble that if he tried to argue, she would hear no word of it. It had been like that in the first class with her too - when she had happily ignored every pointed question from the students and taken points for any possible objections. Hermione had lost a shocking twenty four points because of it - _Hermione_!

Umbridge had been trying to needle at him too - telling the class that the concept of Voldemort's return was utterly ridiculous and whoever was spreading such rumours was a liar and attention seeker and that people were much better off listening to the Ministry and so forth. The looks she had been sending him had told him loud and clear that she expected opposition and was more than prepared to face it. So, he had bitten his tongue throughout the entire class, not wanting to give her the pleasure.

It wasn't that big of a surprise she didn't even try to figure out if he had done it or not.

"Whatever you say, professor," Harry answered; tucking the flower he was holding into the chest pocket of his robes and smiling brightly at her. She narrowed her eyes at him, ripping some flowers from her books before looking around the class.

"I want each and every one of you to read chapters four and five and write me an essay about twenty ways of using Warlock Gibbon's theorem in real life. Class dismissed!" she finally barked, sending the students quickly gathering their belongings and ripping flowers off their bags and books.

Harry did the same, closing his flower infested books and pushing them into his bag, only stopping when the professor called to him, "Mr. Potter, I will see you at ten a.m. in my office on Saturday. Don't be late," in sickly sweet tones that made him grind his teeth.

"Whatever you say, professor," he answered again and then followed Hermione and Ron out of the classroom.

"You shouldn't be getting detention for something you didn't do," Hermione said once they were safely out of hearing range. "But I suppose you couldn't exactly tell her you didn't - it isn't like she would've believed it. Oh, I knew she wouldn't be an easy teacher, but she's really perfectly horrid!"

"We noticed," Ron muttered, sending a sideways look behind them. "I hope she can't beat the spell," he muttered spitefully.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, and then glanced sideways at a nearby corner, where the shadows were flickering slightly. He frowned and then winced, as Marik's insane grin flashed in the shadows.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing between him and the corner.

For a moment Harry considered just ignoring it, ignoring Marik and continuing on like nothing had happened… but he couldn't do that. Not only had he always been very bad at backing away from a challenge, but he needed to know. Letting Marik do whatever he wished without calling him on it was probably a pretty bad idea anyway. "I need to, um… I need a moment. You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up with you," Harry said, glancing at his friends.

"What is it?" Ron asked, peering into the corner - where he, probably, saw nothing. "One of those, you know, shadowhatsit things?"

"Kind of. I'll explain later," Harry promised and sharing an uneasy look Hermione and Ron nodded and then went on ahead, glancing back at him over their shoulders. Harry waved at them before looking around. The corridor was a bit too crowded for him to start talking to shadows there, so he turned and instead headed to a more sparsely populated corridor. The churning mass of darkness that was Marik followed him, making the shadows in the corners swell.

"Did you do that?" Harry asked in a low voice, once he was sure no one could overhear.

"Did I do what, princeling?" the shadow hissed, flickering around his feet but keeping enough distance so that there was no actual connection. "Did I make the flowers bloom? I'm shadow, little boy, plant life doesn't much care for the likes of me. And I don't care much for the likes of them, to be perfectly _honest_."

"I could feel shadow magic in those flowers," Harry answered, taking the one he had put into his pocket and examining it. It didn't look like something shadow magic could produce, but he could sense the sliver of darkness in it. "You did something."

"Hm. Maybe whatever it is you have isn't entirely wasted on you, princeling, if you were able to notice. But no, I did not make the flowers bloom. What do I care of flowers?" Marik laughed, and suddenly the paper flower in Harry's hand turned into ash, raining down from his fingers and onto the ground before he could stop it. He frowned, rubbing the ash from his fingers and glanced down at the shadow. "But _ah_ , I might've done something to the magic of it," the shadow hissed.

"You mean, someone cast the spell and you… tampered with it?" Harry asked, scowling. "You can do that?"

"My, my, princeling, you sound almost shocked. It's not all _that_ hard. At their most basic level everything is the same, after all - and I'm quite basic myself," the shadow laughed, a horrible breathless sound. "The magic was there, waiting for the right time. I might've pushed it around a little and made it spread a little farther."

Harry frowned. "So, someone - the twins probably - put the spell in place with a time trigger, but you triggered it earlier… and boosted the spell to make it more powerful," he murmured. He didn't know what to think about that - about the fact that Marik could do it. There was something very bad in that - and yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but think that it was important. "Why did you do it?"

"It was there, so why not?" the shadow answered - and in a twist pulled up from the floor and into a vaguely human-like shape - spiky and flickering and grinning madly. "You got into trouble, didn't you, princeling? Our sweet kind King's little boy-toy got into trouble. Poor, poor baby!"

Harry grimaced, but stood his ground, not willing to be bullied by a _shade_. "I get the feeling that you did that entirely on purpose," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You wanted me to get a detention. Why?"

"All the better to save you, my dear," the shadow grinned eyes flickering oddly like a light going on and off. Then he snorted, a gust of colour and magic and odd heat. "I'm ever so bored, you can't even imagine." With a roar of laughter, the shadow shifted forward almost as if to head butt Harry - or give him a kiss. Instead of taking the contact or going right through him, though, the shadow split and went around him, not even grazing him as it passed him. Somehow, though, it was much worse than the opposite - because for a moment Harry was completely _inside_ the shadow and even the horrible feeling of walking through a ghost didn't compare to that.

"This is for you, by the way," Marik added, almost like an afterthought, and then it was gone, leaving Harry reeling and yet frozen in place, as the shadow vanished somewhere behind him, it's presence fading. It took Harry a moment to regain his senses and while longer to realise he was holding a folded sheet of paper which he certainly hadn't had before.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, shuddering and awkwardly brushing his hand over his shoulder, half afraid that he would have some residue of the shadow on him - ash or something like that. Shuddering again, he turned his attention to the sheet of fine paper, noticing that it was sealed with a familiar golden sticker with KC imposed on it. for a moment his brain didn't quite get how Marik would have something from Mokuba - before realising that, despite their hundreds of differences, they were both members of the Court. Mokuba had probably asked Marik - or Malik - deliver it for him by using some weird Court method.

Glancing around, not sure if he was watching out for the shadow or for other students - or maybe for Umbridge, Harry peeled the sticker carefully off and opened the letter to see a printed message on it.

"Dear Mr. Harry J. Potter," the message started. "I have been looking into your financial situation and I believe that some errors have occurred with your proceedings which should be corrected as soon as possible. To this end I have formally informed the Ministry of Magic that you shall be absent from Hogwarts tomorrow from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m., and in this time you will be looking into your personal matters concerning your investments. You will be receiving a formal letter of absence later today - do not lose it or damage it, as you will no doubt be required to present it to your Head of House. I will arrive at Hogwarts Gates tomorrow at precisely 8:00 a.m. I will expect to see you there at that time." The letter was signed: "With regards, Seto Kaiba, CEO and Owner of the Kaiba Corporation, the Regent of the Duellist Court."

Harry stared at the letter - no, _missive_ \- for a long while, eyebrows rising. "Ooh, boy," he murmured.

 

* * *

 

"Wait, there's one of them _here_ , right now, skulking about doing who knows what? _Blimey_ ," Ron murmured, as he, Harry and Hermione leaned over their history texts and pretended to be interested in the subject matter.

"I wouldn't say skulking, exactly, but yeah, something like that," Harry agreed, looking over the letter again. It was extremely precise, leaving not much room for argument - the guy, Mokuba's elder brother apparently, really expected to meet him tomorrow morning at the gates of Hogwarts. And, apparently, he expected no problems regarding that plan. "Yugi's not too worried about him though - I got the impression that as scary as the Priest is, he can't actually _do_ anything."

"Yes, I doubt he would let this Malik stay here if he could be dangerous to the students - with the laws of summoning being so strict," Hermione agreed, taking the letter. "Kaiba Corporation. I think I've heard about that somewhere…."

"Why does the Duellist Court have a _Regent_ when they already have a _King_?" Ron wondered, leaning forward. "Is this Seto Kaiba person something like an undersecretary?"

"More like vice-president, maybe," Harry mused. "I don't really know, but judging by what Mokuba said back on the train, he does some important work for the Court, so he's probably got that title for a reason." He sighed, leaning back a little and leaning his chin onto his palm. "I'm not that worried, though - Yugi warned me about this, so I guess he approves of it. I'm just worried about whether I'll be allowed to leave the school."

"With a letter of absence from the Ministry, no one should be able to stop you," Hermione said, frowning. "I think you can leave Hogwarts for personal reasons with permission from the Head of your house or the Headmaster too, but ministerial approval is something no one in Hogwarts should be able to object to."

"Yeah. Percy skipped a lot of his seventh year because he had an internship with the ministry - he kept prancing the absence letters in the living room all the time," Ron muttered, scowling slightly. "It was really annoying," he added, before giving Harry a look. "Pity this Kaiba-bloke didn't decide to do this stuff on Saturday. You could've skipped Umbridge's first detention."

"Yeah, that would've been useful," Harry agreed, sighing.

The letter of absence arrived during dinner that night, one of the few owls to arrive that late. Harry noted that the pompous ministry owl that delivered him the letter also took one to Umbridge who gave him some narrowed looks after reading hers, but he didn't really care. Instead he looked into his own letter, finding it pretty simple. "The Ministry hereby finds your reason for applying for a day's leave from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry merited, and permits you to be absent from the school from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m…" and so forth.

"Umbridge doesn't look happy. You think she was informed about you leaving tomorrow?" Ron asked under his breath.

"She is giving Harry the evil eye. I bet you my history notes that she'll be trying to interfere tomorrow," Hermione answered.

"Your history notes? Make it your potions notes, and you're on!"

Harry smiled at the two of them before folding the letter neatly and putting it between his books to make sure it wouldn't get wrinkled. He'd visit McGonagall's office later to let her know he'd be going, and he preferred to have the note as pristine as possible for that.

"Another love letter Harry?" Fred asked, while he and George slid to sit beside the three of them.

"No, sadly this one is more boring," Harry answered. "Nice prank, guys," he added, giving them a look. "Those flowers didn't at all entail that someone other than you two could be behind it."

"Yeeaah, we heard about that," George said, grimacing. "The prank wasn't supposed to go off until much later. We have no idea how it got triggered during your class."

"It was a nice one, though, wasn't it?" Fred asked, grinning.

"You gave us quite the inspiration with that paper rosey, you know," his twin nodded

"It's put us in a bit of a bind, though. Once it's an accident, twice is a pattern forming," Fred murmured, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If this means that the next time we do something, someone else gets the credit for it, I quit."

"Does that mean you will stop selling stuff in the common room? Or hiring people to be your test subjects?" Hermione asked cuttingly.

"Why, I have no idea what you mean, lovely Hermione, the rose among us weeds?" George said, batting his eyes innocently.

"Yes, whatever are you talking about, sweet Prefect friend of ours whom we so adore?"

She rolled her eyes at them, and turned back to her food.

As Harry shook his head intending to do the same, the twins leaned closer to him. "Though, seriously, Harry. This is a matter of professional pride here. Stop taking credit," Fred whispered to him. "We'll bribe you, alright? Anything you want, we'll get - free of charge, if it isn't too expensive or we can make it ourselves."

"I'll think about it," the summoner promised, amused.

 

* * *

 

McGonagall, it turned out, didn't much care for the state of the note. "I don't know if leaving the school grounds is so wise, even if it's such an important matter," she said, frowning. "You should've talked with us professors first - or at least let the Headmaster know so he could've supplied you with a proper escort --"

"I don't need an escort - I already have one," Harry answered, fingering the letter of absence thoughtfully.

"Someone from the Order?"

"A friend of a friend," Harry answered, wondering if he would forever describe the Court members like that. "I'll just be ten hours. I'll pop into Diagon Alley, visit Gringotts, and I'll be back before dinner. Nothing will happen in that time, and even if it does, I'm legally an adult now and I know how to protect myself."

"That is not the issue, at least not all of it. There are other worries than the Dark Lord and his ilk. The ministry…" the Head of Gryffindor house grimaced, rubbing her hand over her chin. Then she shook her head and looked at him seriously over the edge of her glasses. "I noticed that you have already been assigned a month's worth of detentions with Delores for a, hm, prank, I assume?"

"Yeah, something like that," Harry nodded, frowning. "You think she'll be butting into my personal business outside Hogwarts?"

The woman sighed. "They are… interfering with matters at Hogwarts - and, I assume, curious about the Order. It wouldn't be wise for them to catch you unawares, especially when there is no one else nearby. Delores might use her status at the Ministry to make herself your escort tomorrow, and letting her see your private financial matters wouldn't be all that wise."

"I have no intention of letting her see any of it," Harry snorted. "The letter said nothing about me needing an escort, especially not her. Even if she tries, I'll just tell her to shove off."

"Hm, yes. But be that as it may, it is highly possible that the Minister will send another official to Gringotts to oversee the proceedings or something of the sort," McGonagall said. "And without a… more experienced adult there to watch over your best interests, I fear you might be taken advantage of without your own knowledge."

"As I already said, I'm not going alone," Harry answered, tapping the letter's fold impatiently. He rather doubted that this Seto Kaiba, whatever he was like, was exactly inexperienced either. Not if he was the CEO of a corporation - and muggle corporations were probably harder to manage than their magical equivalents.

"Yes. The friend of your friend," McGonagall murmured, giving him a doubtful look. "Perhaps it would still be better if one of the staff escorted you -"

She trailed away at Harry's irritated sigh. "You can escort me down to the gates - but beyond that, I already have an escort," he said. "I don't need another one. I'm not here to ask your permission or approval or your guiding hand to hold mine as I cross the Merlin damned street," he added, and held the letter up. "I already have my permission and I'm telling you I will be away from school tomorrow. _That's all_."

She fell silent, regarding him with a highly unimpressed look. "I will be informing the headmaster about this," she said finally.

"Go ahead. If he looks me in the eye when he orders my imprisonment, I might even listen," Harry harrumphed, shoved the letter into his bag and left.

He was sure he only imagined the hissing laughter following him as he did. Pretty sure anyway.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Harry woke up early to select his clothing. Something about Seto Kaiba's missive - and title and reputation and all the stuff the other Court members had said about him - made him feel that showing up in Dudley's old rags was probably not a good idea. The problem was, unless he wore robes and cloaks, Dudley's old rags were all he had - and he didn't know if they'd be 'dealing with his finances' in the muggle or in the magical world.

"Ten galleons for you to rent me your best set of muggle clothes for the day," he finally said, turning to Dean Thomas who, being muggle raised had the best muggle clothes in their dormitory. The dark skinned boy gave him half sleepy, half confused look over the edge of his comforter. "If they're especially nice, I'll bring you some butterbeer?" Harry offered desperately.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," his dorm mate answered, yawning and burying himself back into his bed. "Just don't mess up my trunk too badly, 'kay?"

Harry took special care to fold every article of clothing he inspected but rejected while realising that Dean was _awesome_ and had very excellent clothes. Harry's own button up shirt and Gryffindor neck tie worked perfectly with Dean's dark brown jacket and pants, and after some thinking Harry also borrowed the other boy's shoes. Maybe the result wasn't as good as his bottle green dress robes, but it was certainly better than anything Harry had.

"Well, aren't we looking nice," said Hermione, who was already awake and reading in the common room when he came down,  looking up from her book. "You could do something about your hair?"

"Like what, set it on fire? Aside from that, I've tried everything trust me. It's semi sentient and won't listen to me," Harry answered nervously, tugging at his tie. It was easy to wear a tie with his Hogwarts uniform - everyone had one and no one particularly cared about how they wore theirs. But to wear one with a muggle jacket, it just seemed slightly more… official. And Harry had never been too good with official.

"Come here, I'll see what I can do," Hermione sighed, and awkwardly Harry sat down beside her so she could play with his hair. "I wish I could come with you. I've wanted to learn more about the magical financial system, but I've never had enough galleons to do more than shop," she mused. "You will have to tell me all about it when you come back."

"I'll do one better and call you every five minutes," Harry said, showing the mirror phone. "Begging for help I imagine."

She grinned, taking out her wand and running it over Harry's hair. "I'm sure it'll go fine. What with your rose giving _special someone_ being Mr. Kaiba's boss," she mused, grinning wider.

"Yugi's not --"

"And yet it's _Yugi_ now, and not _Mutou_? Hm?"

Harry flushed, looking away. "I don't know," he murmured. "I mean… maybe it's _something_ , but I don't know _what_ it is? I mean, Yugi's been sort of stalking me for months now, right? I kind of got used to that. And he's kind of…" he trailed away, thinking about the way Yugi was with the pharaoh. "But, but I never thought of him like that. Or myself. Or… uh. It's just, it's confusing."

"Yeah, I bet," she chuckled. "But men don't send roses to just anyone you know. Even paper ones."

"I still think that was sort of like a joke. I mean, I was joking about it earlier - I think he sent the rose to me just because he could," Harry sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Anyway, I bet this whole thing with Kaiba, it's probably just settling the whole payment for Bakura, since he worked as my witness for defence, and all."

"If that's the only thing, it wouldn't take ten hours," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, probably not," Harry murmured, squirming slightly as she poked his scalp with her wand. "Do you think finances are hard to understand?"

"Nearly impossible - so you should be just fine," she answered, and pulled her wand back. "And I'm done," she announced, waving the wand and creating a mirror. "What do you think?"

Harry blinked, turning his eyes to his reflection and frowning. "Eh," he said after a moment. His hair looked like it had been combed back and fixed there with wax or something. It looked… well, it might've looked good on _someone_ , but on him the style looked… kind of absolutely bloody ridiculous. "I… I don't know, Hermione…. It's kind of…."

She grinned, put the mirror away and then proceed to ruffle his hair into perfect disarray, knocking his glasses askew and nearly making him fall off the couch "There," she said victoriously, pulling the mirror up again and smirking smugly. "Perfect."

"Hey, what -! You insane witch, what are you doing?" Harry demanded, and then glanced at the mirror. He groaned. Somehow his hair looked even worse than before. "Last time I ask you to do my hair."

Hermione laughed. "You look fine," she assured. "Why are you up this early, though? You're not supposed to go until eight, right?"

"Yeah, but I was hoping to catch some breakfast before going - but I don't want to go to the Great hall in case someone decides to start a food fight - or, you know, Umbridge decides to throw me into detention or something," Harry said.

"So, you want to go get something to eat and then sneak away before anyone can stop you," Hermione nodded. "Go wake up Ron and we'll go down to the kitchens, then."

After he had dragged Ron out of bed, they headed to the portrait entrance of the kitchens and down from there to the kitchens themselves, where the house elves were in a mad whirl of work, preparing for the breakfast. Hermione got a pained look on her face as she saw them, and she looked like she wanted to apologise for the way Ron just went right ahead and demanded food.

"Aah, bacon. Delicious bacon. C'mere, bacon," Ron grumbled, still half asleep and barely coherent

"It's wrong," Hermione murmured, giving Harry a sideways look. "You understand, right? It's slavery and it's wrong."

"I don't know," Harry answered, gratefully accepting the porridge the elves offered him. "Is summoning slavery?"

She frowned. "Actually --"

" _No_ , it isn't," Harry stopped her before she could start - because he really didn't need her to get that idea into her head. "Being summoned and serving is something the summons decide for themselves. It gives them a purpose for their existence, it gives them something to do - I think it also gives them better status in the shadow realm and makes them more powerful."

"Yes, but house elves have no choice."

"Don't they? Any time they could pick any piece of clothing lying around and see it as sign of _being given clothes_. Especially in Hogwarts - with hundreds of us there, you can bet your hair bun there's always a couple leaving their clothes around," Harry shrugged. "But they don't. They take the clothing and wash it and return them and that's that. I wonder why that is?"

"He's got a point," Ron said around a mouthful and swallowed noisily. "I leave my clothes on the floor all the time."

Hermione frowned at them and sighed. "I don't have a hair bun," she finally muttered, making the boys share a grin. She glared at them. "It doesn't mean I accept it, or like it!" she snapped.

"We know," Harry answered with a knowing nod. "That's why we love you."

"We know you really would like a hair bun," Ron agreed solemnly and only narrowly avoided Hermione's punch.

After they had finished eating, Harry and Ron parted ways with Hermione, whose first class started at eight and thus she couldn't walk Harry to the gates. Ron, though, had his first class later, so he accompanied Harry out of the castle and down the way students usually went to visit Hogsmeade.

"Hey, if you get the chance, could you see if you could buy me the new issue of the Quidditch Weekly?" Ron asked as they walked. "And, you know, for yourself too. Buy it for yourself and then let me read it?"

"I'll see if I can stop by the store," Harry snorted, and looked up as he saw some people at the gates. The most prominent and most easily recognizable figure was Umbridge, whose robes were violently pink against the green of the hills around them. Next to her there was Professor McGonagall, who was thankfully wearing her teaching robes and apparently not getting ready for a trip off the school grounds. Then there was --

"Is that Bill?" Ron asked with surprise, as they recognized the man in a dragon hide jacket and boots, slouching casually against the gate's side. "Oi, Bill! What're you doing here?!"

"Hey there, Ron. Harry," the long haired man said, waving at them while the two professors turned around, McGonagall looking peeved and Umbridge looking fairly narrow eyed. Despite the fact that the pink-robed woman had no doubt been trying to interrogate him, Bill looked perfectly at ease. "I'm here to escort Harry to Gringotts. Crowd back at home thought he should have someone experienced with asset handling."

"Asset handling?" Ron snorted, nudging Harry with his elbow. "Is it just me or does that sound perverted?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "I guess it does. And Bill's _experienced_ , too," he answered, making the long haired man waggle his eyebrows suggestively, much to McGonagall's disgust. "H'lo Professors," Harry greeted them, aiming the greeting mostly to the Deputy Headmistress. "Don't you have classes to teach?"

"We do," McGonagall said, sending a narrow eyed look at Umbridge.

"Mr. Potter," the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher started, smiling her sickly sweet smile. "My dear child. The Minister has informed me of your… important business at Gringotts and considering your unfortunate lack of a proper magical guardian, we feel it necessary for you to have company for this excursion, someone who can guide you in these important matters."

"Yes, and Mr. Weasley here is more than qualified - he's been working at Gringotts for several years now," McGonagall said, smiling a stony smile at the other professor.

"Mm, yes, I'm sure he has great deal of… experience with the lovely… keepers of the bank," Umbridge said, sending a sideways look at Bill who just smiled back. She smiled back disgustedly before turning to Harry. "However there is more to matters like these than just understanding the beasts who keep your wealth - something only a person properly acquitted with the Ministry can help you with."

"I don't think Mr. Potter’s personal finances have anything to do with the Ministry, Professor Umbridge," McGonagall said, looking like she wanted to roll her eyes - or shoot laser beams out of them. It was hard to tell which. "Mr. Weasley is more than good enough escort for Mr. Potter. Now, I think it's high time we returned to the castle, don't you think? Your first class starts at eight, doesn't it?"

"As does yours, Minerva - however I have already informed my students that the classes have been cancelled for the day. Now, you run along and let me handle --"

Whatever she said after that was drowned under a sound which was rather like lightning striking straight at them, and which nearly made Harry duck for cover and glance at the sky. Everyone around the gate jerked slightly - McGonagall and Bill both reached for their wands and glanced around for the source of the sound. Harry, though, was the first to see it - and probably the first to understand what it was.

A long black limousine, like the ones out of muggle movies, sped up the winding road and towards them at an unnaturally high speed, still slightly incorporeal after jumping. As the others hurried backwards and behind the protection of the Hogwarts Gates, Harry stared in wide eyed fascination as the Limousine curved to a violent halt, tires digging holes into the gravel as it veered towards the gates - and towards Harry.

"What the hell --" Harry could hear Ron asking behind him, over the nearly silent hum of the engines and not so silent crackle of magic, still flickering over the smooth, mirror-glassed vehicle. Before anyone could come up with an answer, though, the limousine's door opened from the driver's side, and a young, spotted man stepped out, dressed in an impeccable muggle suit. Harry gaped at him in shock for a moment, and then felt like slapping himself for some reason. Maybe because it seemed like some weird dream.

"Stan Shunpike?" McGonagall asked with shock.

"Yes, that’d be me," the young man said, smoothing his hand over the front of his suit, looking quite smug. Then he blinked and very nearly ran around the limo to hurriedly open the back seat door - to reveal the very spacious inside, which by the looks of it had been enlarged to the extreme by magic. As Harry watched with the feeling that he was seeing something as unstoppable and as horrifying as a train wreck, a tall, brown haired man smoothly came out of the limousine.

"Gravel," the man muttered, looking down at the ground with disgust. "Asphalt was invented decades ago - and for a good reason - and you haven't even upgraded to _pavement_ yet," he snorted and looked up - and at Harry. Judging by his expression, he wasn't impressed by what he saw.

Harry on other hand, was beyond impressed and on the other side of intimidated. The man was _tall_. And so obviously rich that it was somewhat painful to look at. The long white coat he wore was such pure white that Harry had to wonder if it had even been made on earth - and all his other clothes seemed to follow suit, the majority of them the same perfectly pure white. What made him look so wealthy, though, was the expression. Malfoy could spend years trying and he would never reach that level of sheer self-assured disdain.

"Well then," Seto Kaiba said, glancing over Harry's borrowed coat and school uniform tie and raising a single sarcastic eyebrow at him. "We have a lot of business attend to and only so much time to do it. Get in," he said, motioning at the limousine, apparently without any intention of spending a second on pleasantries or proper introductions. But then he seemed like a man who went through life without needing either of them.

"Excuse me," Umbridge said, stepping forward. "I do not know who you are, sir, but I will have you know that I will be escorting Mr. Potter today --"

"You will?" the man asked. His expression didn't change, he didn't narrow his eyes, didn't do anything but suddenly he was glaring down at the Professor all the same. "Do I know you, woman?"

"I am the undersecretary of the Minister --"

"No, apparently not," Seto Kaiba said, and completely _dismissed_ her importance, turning his attention instead to McGonagall and Bill, who had a curious look about his face. "Does anyone else think they will be _escorting_ Mr. Potter today?" the Regent of Duellist Court asked, while Harry realised _why_ the Duellist Court had a Regent. For the simple reason that this man probably wouldn't have settled for anything less.

"Mr. Weasley will," McGonagall said, looking confused and worried and somewhat fascinated all at the same time. "He works for Gringotts Bank and can offer some insights if necessary," she added, glancing at Umbridge who seemed rather dumfounded.

"Hm. We'll see," Seto Kaiba said, looking Bill over. He seemed at least fractionally satisfied by what he saw in Bill's unusual attire and casual expression, because he nodded with approval. "You can come," the Regent said. "Get in."

As Bill detached himself from the gate, casual and easy going as if nothing out of ordinary was going on, Harry glanced at Ron who was marvelling at the scene before him. "Yikes," the redhead mouthed to Harry, nodding towards Kaiba and shuddering dramatically. Harry sighed in agreement, and after a last uneasy glance at the aloof expression on the face of the imposing Regent of the Duellist Court, he slid into the magical limousine.

It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote way back when. This is not abandoned, I'm still hoping to continue this. One of these days. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

**Author's Note:**

> ABANDONED AND NOT UP FOR ADOPTION


End file.
